


Feet of Clay

by Anythingtoasted



Series: Feet of Clay [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-14
Updated: 2012-04-14
Packaged: 2017-11-03 15:38:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/383080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anythingtoasted/pseuds/Anythingtoasted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sirius is almost sorry this is where it begins -because, as with so many things, a beginning can be as disgusting as it likes. He holds Remus' hair back and watches as whatever the young werewolf has eaten falls into the sink, and sighs when Remus retches again; he remembers vaguely why his own hair is always kept back, safe from the porcelain and half-digested food of a standard Friday night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feet of Clay

**Author's Note:**

> Tenses might be slightly off, and for that I apologise! i'll get round to it eventually, i promise, but as this fic is such a monster i'll hold off for now. This is first in the "Feet of Clay" series, and i hope you enjoy it.

No matter who you are, throwing up is always a disgusting thing. Sirius is almost sorry this is where it begins -because, as with so many things, a beginning can be as disgusting as it likes. He holds Remus' hair back and watches as whatever the young werewolf has eaten falls into the sink, and sighs when Remus retches again; he remembers vaguely why his own hair is always kept back, safe from the porcelain and half-digested food of a standard Friday night.

When he's finished, Remus groans and mumbles and sits down with a whump, dragging Sirius with him; the sink smells rancid, choking their bathroom's usual cleanly scent. Sirius puts his arms tentatively around Remus, because he never really learned how to touch another man - it is usually the girls who need this kind of closeness – and Remus mumbles how sorry he is and falls quietly asleep.

Sirius Black, unsure, for once, carries his friend awkwardly to his bunk. He doesn't know if it's right to carry another human being in this way but he does it, quickly and without complaint. Downstairs he can hear the common room start to buzz, but the werewolf doesn't stir.

And he lays Remus to rest; he watches as the werewolf stretches and fusses and settles, his hands grasping for the warmth of another human - and when denied, simply curling into a tighter ball. He is animal and instinctual in this state, and Sirius finds himself smiling.

Then James comes upstairs and laughs and smiles, tipsy. He loops an arm around Sirius' shoulders, breaking his reverie and turning Remus into just another sleeping, spent little boy. Sirius laughs too and ignores that Remus didn't drink, and that he is sick - because the immediate is Diane, the pretty, younger Gryffindor who has been making eyes at him from the stands all Quidditch season, and according to James she is looking for him, completely off her tits.

He glances back at Remus, shakes his head, and leaves.

XxX

Weeks later, Sirius summons the courage - wonders, as well, why this could possibly be so important. Remus tilts his head and curls his essay into a tight roll when Sirius asks him why he was sick. He shrugs.

"I think it was just a bit of flu. Why?"

Sirius shakes his head and laughs; all this time his mind had found deeper meanings because at the time he'd been watching Diane, rapt at the next conquest, and Remus had noticed. He'd frowned a little and then had dashed upstairs, cheeks bulging.

Sirius shakes his head and laughs, leaving without an answer.

He collapses onto the sofa in the common room and is confronted with the friends of Diane, the now scorned and angry, pretty, younger Gryffindor. He sighs, too tired to fight them off; they keep hissing, asking him why, and he honestly doesn't know. He tells them this and they leave him alone even less. He stands and walks out of the portrait hole, down the corridor, collapsing tiredly behind a tapestry he knows is hollow. Lily Evans, resident haughty redhead, is already there, and she scowls. She quirks her brows in the usual way and folds one leg over the other.

"Stupidity finally catching up with you? I can't believe what you did to poor little Diane." He's tired and finds it hard to answer - clutching his chest, realizing only now how fast his heart had been pounding, Sirius stares at her. "Black?" she says angrily, affronted, arms crossed and sitting on the stone floor.

"Dunno." He mumbles, running a hand through his hair. "Never really liked her, honestly."

She seems surprised at his willingness to talk and presses on, her lips pressed together in a thin line - Sirius wonders blankly why she's here at all. "Then why did you...?"

"It was easy." He mutters, and he starts to laugh like a madman; Lily shrinks back slightly, affronted.

"You're disgusting." She spits, folding the book she was clutching into her bag. Sirius looks up at her when she stands.

"Why are you here?" He's snatched back at coherence and she flushes, obviously not expecting to be asked.

"If that prat, James, could leave me alone...trust me. I'd be somewhere else." She frowns again, unsure. Sirius smirks.

"You need to hide, now? I thought you could hex him? Besides...he leaves you alone a lot now. Nice guy."

"He's...still persistent. He hides it well." She's turning redder and redder, on fire next to her auburn hair. "I'm leaving." She announces; he doesn't much care.

XxX

A day later and Sirius is burning; if there was a sickness in Remus it has doubled in him. Sometimes his throat seizes up, sometimes his legs feel as if they've turned to mush and he can no longer stand, too weak to even walk. Sometimes his face sets on fire, some inhuman fever. He finds himself staggering most days, and out of the corner of his eye he is watching Remus' reaction, confiding in James his strange symptoms.

James looks queasy when Sirius rants and raves in his healthier moments, questioning the air desperately why he's feeling this way. He's been to Madame Pomfrey, sparing the more intimate details, and she has simply laughed, as if this was another stupid prank.

Finally, addled by fever, Sirius goes to Remus - the cleverest of them all, sure that he'll know what this is.

"...And my face goes red and my legs feel like they've turned to dust and I don't know, Moony, I've just never felt like this before." He huffs a sigh, head in Remus' lap, and the werewolf's fingers are combing his hair. "Even right now." He pouts, disgruntled, and the expression deepens when he recognizes Remus' bewildered face. "That's what James looks like when I tell him, too."

Remus shrugs and ruffles Sirius' hair, smiling. "It's probably just one of those things you have to wait out, Pads." He's not looking at Sirius anymore, but instead out to the lake, over the bank where they're seated. "It'll pass."

"Are you sure?" He frowns. "I've been like this ever since you were ill, and...I dunno, was it like this for you?"

Remus chuckles at this, bewildering Sirius. "Not with the flu, no. But sometimes I feel a lot like that." His fingers are tangling gently in Sirius' hair and he feels Remus stiffen for a moment, face flushing pink. It's nothing compared to the lobster Sirius imagines himself to be, but it's there. He smiles.

"Right there! The same thing." He frowns. "But that's not good. You know, I even got weird about Diane because of this? And I started talking to that stupid bint, Lily..."

"Lily is far from a stupid bint." Remus chides, and Sirius huffs.

"What _, you're_  in love with her too?"

"No, Pads." Remus stands up, pushing Sirius none-too-gently, playfully, out of his lap. "I've got an essay to write." He stands there a little too long, then crouches down and bites his lip, looking Sirius square in the eye. His hands are shaking, and Sirius quirks a brow.

"What?"

But Remus has leaned forward and kissed him, and Sirius' symptoms fluctuate until the werewolf pulls away. "Sorry." He mutters, and walks off - but slowly, like he's expecting Sirius to run after him. He does, and catches up easily.

"You're a poof!"

Remus turns purple and hides his eyes behind a hand, silent, and laughs. "If that's all you're going to take away from this, then yes." He smiles oddly at Sirius, and his friend finds it strange – usually, Remus is concerned with tea and toast and books, and being quiet. So rarely does he make a fuss that Sirius finds it hard to associate him with any kind of disquiet or anxiety – bypassing the werewolf thing - and even about that, he is strangely casual. This weary smile has no teeth, no eyes in it. It's unusual.

"Honestly, Moony, I'm not surprised." He ventures, trying to keep things light and to change Remus' expression. It works, because Remus laughs. "Very few people can resist me." But he has lied. Luckily, he is able to deal with this in the only way he knows how, and bulldozes on regardless, matching Remus' hurried pace back to the castle. He wonders vaguely why Remus was out here on his own, at all.

"Must be your animal magnetism." Remus smirks, and Sirius rolls his eyes.

"Woof." And then they just don't talk about it, even though Sirius is still feeling terribly sick, and Remus is still stretching that weary smile out at the corners, his face folding. He is vaguely aware that Remus has bestowed upon him some great secret, and feels guilty for not reacting in a more dramatic or worthy fashion, but it is too late as they reach the castle, and by then he's not really sure he wants to talk about it at all. He settles for the easy lope of teasing Remus for his bookishness, rifling through his heavy bag for the useless things that Remus chooses to read, 'bettering himself'. On their way back to the portrait hole, several younger girls shoot him dirty looks, but he counters them with his own older, steely gaze, and forgets them as soon as they pass. Remus puts his hands in his pockets and looks after a particularly aggressive girl, who has stormed away. He raises his eyebrow at Sirius.

"Is there a reason why the younger generation is trying to make you explode with their minds?" Sirius shrugs in response.

"Still sore about me dumping Diana."

"Ah. Well, then, I'm sure they'll get over it." They climb through the entrance, Remus first, and are immediately confronted with raucous laughter, James and Peter hanging suspended in mid-air from their ankles. They look up, and James shrugs noncommittally, his face red from being upside-down.

"Accident. Help us out?" They do.

XxX

Diana and her friends get over their aggression in little over a week, but Sirius, even by that time, is still unable to get rid of his fever. At dinner on a Wednesday evening, he almost collapses, face-first into his potatoes.

"I don't feel well."

James rolls his eyes, a forkful of chicken halfway to his mouth. "Shut up, Padfoot. How can you still be feeling sick? Did you go to Pomfrey?"

"I did. She won't let me in anymore, until I've got some 'actual symptoms'." He scoffs. "Cheeky bitch. I think I know when I'm ill!"

Remus looks up from his muggle studies homework, which he has brought down to dinner with him. They still have not mentioned what happened by the lake. "Maybe there's nothing wrong with you. Pomfrey's a nurse, after all."

"Well, I still feel sick."

"Probably just all in your head, Pads." Peter covers his mouth, as it is full. "Calm down and you'll probably get over it."

"Anyway." Says James conversationally, "You haven't keeled over yet, and we've got business to attend to tonight." He looks at Remus, none-too-subtly, and grins. Sirius smiles back. Remus looks irritated and worn.

"Gosh, James, anyone would think you'd been trained in the arts of subterfuge." He says sarcastically, eyes still on his quill and paper. "You really are very inconspicuous and clever."

James is not to be deterred, and claps him on the back. "Cheer up, Moony. Don't get bent out of shape just because you've got PMS." James delighted in pretending that Remus was a girl, referring to his 'pre-moon stress' whenever they were in polite company. Remus found it very annoying, but what could he do? It was better than the truth, after all.

XxX

That night, when they are preparing to leave for that night's 'festivities', squashed under the cloak, crouched, trying desperately not to let their feet show, Remus is already over at the shrieking shack, and Sirius is still suffering with his fever. He whispers to James as they cross the main hall to the front door. "James. James, I feel sick."

"Shut up, Sirius!" James hisses back out of the corner of his mouth, as they shuffle comically towards the door. He opens the door to the grounds as slowly and quietly as he can, and slips out, head jerking from side to side as he looks for imagined people who would catch them. Peter and Sirius shuffle behind him, grumbling.

"Prongs, can't we just transform? It'd be a little weird to see us all together, but we wouldn't get in trouble." James just shushes him frantically, and so with a sigh, Sirius continues his awkward shuffle, sandwiched between his two friends. "You are so paranoid." He receives only another 'shh!' in response, and huffs. The claustrophobia of the cloak is getting to him more than usual, him being  _so_  terribly ill, and he gripes and moans the entire way across the grounds. As they finally throw off the cloak and Peter transforms so he can stop the tree, James and Sirius standing a good distance away, James is thoroughly annoyed.

"Look, Sirius, could you just shut up for a second about feeling ill, and assume that unless you're going to doggy-diarrhoea all over my hooves, I don't want to hear another word about your poor, delicate constitution?"

Sirius puts his hands in his pockets and grumbles more, but stops talking about being ill. He knows James means well, and is just stressed about being caught, and that he really  _has_  been moaning excessively – especially considering Remus is tearing himself apart at this very moment – but nonetheless, he plots to leave a 'present' for James, who, when transformed, can't see his feet. He smiles at the thought as the great branches of the tree stop moving. He looks at James, who seems caught in some sort of pissed-off reverie.

"Be a dear, would you, James?" James rolls his eyes and does not dignify the pun with a response, transforming at the same time as Sirius and following Peter – approaching the entrance to the shrieking shack, they can already hear Remus' grunts of pain and anguished, inhuman yelps, as he becomes more wolf than man. They stand in the entrance together, waiting for relative silence, for the time when it is appropriate to come in. They are never there when he actually transforms, as they are worried that they will embarrass him, and as James said, they are there to help him, not to make him feel like even more of a freak than he already does.

When the wolf's grunts of pain finally end, they enter, Prongs first – this is because he is the largest, and therefore commands the most respect upon approaching the wolf. Sirius follows suit, coming to flank Prongs on his left, and Peter does the same, appearing on the stag's right. Every time they do this, they have to establish themselves with the wolf again; it is easier every time, since the first, but never  _easy._ They know the process like the back of their hands now, though, and slowly inch towards the wolf that, large and ferocious, is clenched in the centre of the dirt-and-flagstone floor, teeth bared. Padfoot and Wormtail stand still as Prongs steps forward, head lowered, testing the waters. If it's a 'bad' month, sometimes the three of them can't stick around, but this has been happening less and less, lately. In fact, the wolf concedes quickly to Prongs, lurching forward slowly towards the stag, its shoulder blades rolling under thin fur. It sniffs at the stag and almost nods, as Wormtail and Padfoot watch, rapt, for a sign that they ought to leave. It does not, this time, arrive. The wolf turns away from the stag, no longer interested, and Prongs looks at Padfoot, self-satisfied. ' _there.'_  He seems to say.  _'there are more important things than your upset stomach'_ and, positioned in this room with the creature, still feeling vaguely feverish, Sirius is inclined to agree.

Sirius tries not to flinch as the wolf, turning away from similar treatment of Peter, comes to sniff at his face, its orange eyes very much inside his field of vision. Despite their familiarity, he knows that the wolf is no pussycat. As it huffs and snorts at his flesh, Sirius always wonders if this time will be his last – if the wolf will tire of him and rend him limb from limb, finally, and it will be over. However, the wolf steps back and lowers itself, nose to the ground, prompting Sirius to do the same. The wolf quickly rises, still dominant, and cuffs Padfoot with an almost playful paw, sending Padfoot flying. He barks the closest thing to a laugh that he can manage, and catches Prongs in his peripheral vision, stoic with his deer's face. Sirius knows he would be laughing, if he could.

From then on, largely, it is plain sailing – though all of them but Prongs tiptoe around the wolf out of barely-disguised trepidation and fear, once the wolf has acknowledged them, it is docile, playful, even. They let it out of the shack and go running around the grounds, careful to keep out of the forbidden forest, and herd the wolf back to the shack, come sunrise. Sirius is still unnerved by the way in which the creature, which he knows to be his friend, so casually crushes and snaps the bones of a rabbit in its jaws, but never mentions it after the full moon. Unspoken between them all is the assertion that they never mock Remus' actions as the wolf, just as they never watch him transform, out of respect. Sirius doesn't even know if Remus  _knows_  he eats the rabbits and smaller animals that roam the forest, and is inclined to keep things that way. Besides, he is not half as traumatised by Remus' bunny-eating hobby as Peter, whose size as an animagus is scarily similar to that of a small rabbit. When the wolf decides to snack, Peter quickly hides between one of the bigger two, and often Sirius can feel him quaver against his leg while the wolf, grotesquely, chows down. It is funny, in a sick sort of way.

In the morning they do not sleep, and instead leave the shack, picking up their clothes and the invisibility cloak as they leave. They transform back once they are far away from being seen by the wolf, and dress, hearing again the anguished cries of Remus (or the wolf) as he is thrown, startlingly, back into the shape of a man.

As they leave Sirius, still as Padfoot, glances back at the wolf sleeping curled in the corner of the room, and feels a pang of guilt. He wonders what Remus dreams of, what else he is hiding that they don't already know, and resolves to speak to him about what happened to them by the lake. It is the least he can do.

When they reach the castle, tired and grumpy under the cloak, Peter falling asleep standing up and tripping over, Sirius realises vaguely that his sickness has gone away. Thinking that maybe he just needed the exercise, he goes to bed for a well-earned hour of sleep, and dreads his 9 o'clock lesson for a second as his head hits the pillow and he immediately falls fast asleep.

XxX

After a hard day, snapping at his friends and teachers alike, there is no opportunity to speak to Remus. The transformation must have been worse than they realised, because even though the wolf was incredibly well behaved last night, Remus has been in the hospital wing all day. They all visit briefly, while he is still asleep (Sirius greeted by Madame Pomfrey with a po-faced expression, and the assurance that she has no time for his 'whingeing'. He takes profound offence.)

They leave as he begins to stir, however, Sirius lingering over his bedside and leaving a chocolate frog on the table, anxious to preserve his pride, and to pretend they have never seen him weak, or plaintive, or injured. It is part of their devotion to each other, and to him, that they ignore both his violence  _and_  his fragility, letting him present himself in the way that  _he_  wants. Sirius wonders when they will have the opportunity to talk, suddenly conscious of accidentally wounding his tall friend. He supposes he will just have to barrel in, as usual, and hope for the best, but dreads the wrong reaction and is very aware of the delicacy of the situation. He's not really sure what Remus' admission means, what his kiss meant, why he chose Sirius at all, and the thought of accidentally treating it too lightly, thus sending Remus back into himself, is horrifying to consider. He slopes off behind James, still a little moody on two hour's sleep and definitely in need of a break.

"Wonder what he did to himself this time?" James mutters solemnly, as they leave the wing, and Sirius feels a sudden rush of pride and gratitude towards him; that Evans girl is entirely wrong in thinking James has no morals – he loves his friends like they are his brothers, and when they break, he breaks, too. Sirius almost wishes he had such an emotional range – aside from a vague sort of sympathy, he finds it incredibly difficult to understand the enormity of Remus' situation, difficult to imagine himself being the same. Then again, if he were a werewolf, he'd probably have killed himself by now. He honestly doesn't know how Remus does it twelve times a year.

"Dunno, seemed relatively gentle to me –" he falters under James' incredulous look "I mean, compared to how it is usually, gentle." Peter murmurs a noise in agreement, and James shrugs.

"We can ask him when he's out. I'm starving. Coming to the kitchens, Pads?" He grins and Peter flushes in alarm.

"But Mcgonagall caught us last time! And she said she'd expel us if she found out we'd done it again, and…" He chews his lip and James laughs.

"Well, then, we won't let her catch us. It was silly not to use the cloak last time anyway, dunno what I was thinking."

Peter frowns. "You left it with Georgia Spinnett, in the Hufflepuff common room."

"Oh yeah! Blimey, she must be a bit thick, that one, never realised what it was. Even when her hand turned invisible as she gave it back…ah, well." He shrugs. "We'll bring it this time, and Minerva will be none the wiser." Striding cheerfully onwards, he stops. "Well, Pads? Coming with?"

Sirius shrugs noncommittally. "I think I'm going to go for a bath. Sinuses, you know."

James rolls his eyes. "Ah yes, I forgot. Your…  _sickness_. Well," he looks Sirius up and down, obviously finding him to be in perfect health, and lying. "You take care of your…Sinuses. Want anything from the kitchens?"

"Nah, not really feeling it. See you in a bit." Sirius waves over his shoulder as James looks at him, a little disgruntled, and walks away with Peter beside him.

XxX

Sirius has never been so thankful for Remus being a prefect as he is now. Yes, his methods were a little underhanded, considering it was Remus' position in school on the line, but…well, it was hard to care when the benefits were in such abundance.

He had all but tortured Remus for the password to the prefect's bathroom – at first, he had campaigned not so that he could use them, but for a better vantage point with which to torture the prefects. He had cajoled, which worked only to an extent, wheedled, which came out as whining, and threatened Remus – which didn't go over well – until finally, along with James and Peter, he had hung Remus on the wall in their dormitory with the word 'MISER' emblazoned across his forehead and sat asking for the password until Remus gave in. To his credit, Remus held out for the better part of a day, but by evening his stomach rumbled and he eyed Sirius from his vantage point, witheringly.

"Oh, fine, you bastard." He sighed. "The password is 'Lickspittle', but I swear to god," he tried his best to look threatening with his arms and legs pinned to the wall, and Sirius snorted. "If you tell everyone else, I'll stick you to the side of Gryffindor tower and you'll never, ever come down."

"Yes, yes, woe betide me, etcetera." Sirius waved his wand and muttered  _finite incantatem,_ and Remus fell to the floor with a clatter, quickly rising to straighten his robes. Hearing the noise, Peter entered, toothbrush still in his mouth.

"Oh, Remus." He shook his head and looked at Sirius. "We got the password, then?" Sirius nodded and Peter rolled his shoulders in a shrug, and went back into the bathroom to finish brushing. Remus looked at Sirius. He smiled.

"Well. That was anticlimactic."

Sirius shrugged in the same way that Peter had. "It won't be tomorrow." He smirked in Remus' direction, making the werewolf wrinkle his nose pre-emptively. "I'd, er, use the dormitory one for a while after. If you catch my drift." Remus had just snorted, hands in his pockets, and left.

He returned moments later, realising the ugly word was still on his forehead, and booted a laughing Sirius playfully, preparing to storm out again.

"Come on, Moony, do you honestly think I'd starve you?"

Remus turned on the way to the bathroom to look at his forehead, interest piqued. "…I'm not sure how to answer that." Sirius put a hand to his heart, feigning horror.

"The answer, most definitely, is no." He reached under the bed, and produced a large bag of sweets, presenting it to Remus with an ill-disguised flourish. "Padfoot provides." He grinned as Remus pulled it towards him wordlessly and fell upon it, devouring whatever was unwrapped and close to hand. "See what you get when you behave?"

Remus stopped eating and looked at him. "I'm getting the distinct impression that I've been used, here."

"Don't worry. You'll get used to it." Sirius had said, with a smile, and Remus ignored him in favour of the food.

Now, though, he was reaping the  _real_  benefits of the password. Really, Remus should have been thanking him, as he was using his time in the bath (in-between turning all the taps on and off, of course) to think about how on earth to broach the subject of what-happened-by-the-lake. Thing was, despite the fact that he was in a place ideal for thought, nothing came. There simply was  _no way_  to sensibly, or sensitively, broach the subject of Remus' sexuality without being overly subtle or, potentially, saying entirely the wrong thing. Besides, Sirius thinks, looking at his rapidly wrinkling hands, 'subtle' wasn't exactly the first word that he associated himself with.

He stretches out against the side of the bath, hair in the water, and slowly sinks beneath the surface, watching the mermaid on the stained-glass window alternatively wink at him and comb her hair. He feebly waves at her; she blows him a kiss, and then turns away.

Sirius sighs deeply, sinking into the water and trying to remind himself that it isn't the best idea to fall asleep in the bath, no matter how tired he is. He does a couple of lengths, still thinking. Hopefully, the opportunity would just present itself. After all, they were the marauders – they spent every spare moment together. Surely there would be some time, before it was too late, where he could speak to his friend without mortifying him? Sinking so that his mouth was underwater, hair spread around his face, he closes his eyes for another moment before deciding  _not_ to drown himself, and reluctantly pulls out of the water, trying to ignore the mermaid's renewed lasciviousness as he dresses.

For the second time that day he ignores James and Peter as he passes through the common room, James obviously still slightly pissy at being jilted in favour of the bath, and falls into bed without even time to think, already dead to the world.

XxX

In the fortnight that passes after what-happened-by-the-lake and Remus' subsequent transformation, it is unbelievably difficult to get the werewolf on his own. Sirius doesn't know if this is intentional, and that Remus is avoiding him, or if it's just down to the fact that Remus works incredibly hard (ridiculously hard, he thinks) and rarely has a spare moment anyway, so consumed by paper as he is. Sirius is getting tired of waiting for the opportune time, however, and all but gives up by the time he finds Remus sitting alone by the lake again, crouched over parchment (again), the werewolf simply unable to drag himself away for two seconds.

"Remus." He says irritably, sitting down, and Remus makes a noise to say that he has heard, yes, but he is busy. Sirius realises also, with an imagined slap to the forehead, that he has no idea how to start this conversation and have it go the way he wants it to. He settles for repetition. "Remus. Moony. Moons. Remus." He settles himself beside the werewolf and peers over his shoulder to see what has him so engrossed. "…Arithmancy. You're ignoring me… for Arithmancy."

"Nothing personal Pads, I'm just a little behind." Remus looks up and smiles at him, but again it is that sad, tired look. Sirius feels the pressure to leave him alone but fights the urge.

"I'm going to take it personally anyway. Do you know how many people would fight to have this kind of attention from me? I'm practically beating them off with sticks."

"Mm-hm, I'll bet. Nevertheless…" Remus gestures at his paper and starts writing again. Sirius decides to resolutely capture his audience, and attempts to bodily throw the conversation he's been waiting to have upon Remus. Figuratively, of course.

"Have you been avoiding me?"

Remus looks up. "No?" His face twists, confused. "Why would you think that?"

"Well, I haven't been able to get you on your own for a fortnight." Sirius raises an eyebrow and looks at him, accusatory, and Remus balks a little.

"You know me. It's been a busy two weeks."

"Remus." He says, chiding a little (he enjoys the role reversal – Remus so seldom does anything to warrant it). "Nobody is  _that_ busy."

"Au contraire, Padfoot _; I_  am."

"I still don't believe it," Sirius crosses his legs and leans back on the tree that Remus is under. It's far too cold to be outside, the English spring not having taken yet, the ground wet. "But now that we're speaking, can I…talk to you?" This isn't really going the way he planned.

"You  _are_  talking to me." Remus looks a little worried. "Is something wrong? Did something happen at home…?"

"No, no, this isn't about me."

"That makes a change."

"Ha ha." Sirius tries to pull the thread back, to steer this the way he wants. "This is about  _you_."

"I don't know any other passwords, if that's what you're asking."

"No, this is about…do you remember? A couple of weeks ago? We were out here, and-" Sirius trails off, making hand gestures. Remus opens his mouth and then closes it, and looks up.

"It's getting late." He says blankly, as if he didn't hear Sirius' question. "Isn't there a match on today?"

"Shit." Remus is right – Gryffindor is playing Slytherin today, and he might've remembered, having hexed, and defended himself from hexes by, more Slytherins today than ever before in his life. He feels a sense of loss at being so easily headed off, and sighs. "I have to go." He gets up. "But just – we're going to have this conversation later, okay?"

"Okay." Remus humours him. "Definitely. Yes." The tone of his voice suggests the opposite, but Sirius is too busy to deal with it now. He starts in the other direction.

"We are having this conversation!" He shouts behind him, and Remus nods, eyes already back on the parchment. Sirius swears and legs it back to the common room, mumbling the password, throwing himself upstairs to the dormitory to change. James is already there, halfway through putting his robes on.

"About time, Pads, I was worried you'd forgotten." He sits on the bed, bent over to lace his boots. He looks harassed, and Sirius stops halfway through tugging his shirt off.

"You alright, mate?"

James is obviously not. He runs a hand through his hair, messing it. "Biggins owled me – he's sick."

"…And we're still playing?"

"He said I was deputy. What can I do?" James, Sirius senses, is not being rhetorical. He re-laces his shoes, having accidentally tied them to one another the first time. Sirius pulls himself into his robes. "It's okay, he told me the strategy, and everything. It's just one match." He gets up, talking more to himself than to Sirius. "I'll. Er." He looks in the mirror, pulling at his collar desperately. "I'll be… Fine."

Sirius finishes dressing and goes over, putting his hand on James' shoulder. "You'll be great." He shrugs easily. "And even if you're not, we'll still pretend that you are. What have you got to lose?"

James looks in the mirror, staring desperately at his face as if it holds the secret to victory. "I don't know. Everything." He mumbles, and Sirius pats his shoulder and gets their brooms, and tucking his under his arm and passing James the other. James looks as if he will vomit for a moment, and then straightens. "Right. Well. If I'm going to die from embarrassment and incompetence, I might as well make a handsome corpse."

"That's the spirit!" They leave for the grounds together, Sirius with a firm grip on the robes at James' neck, to prevent him from running and throwing himself from the nearest parapet. Honestly, he thinks, considering also the debacle with Remus. The things that he does for his friends.

XxX

During the pre-match meeting, Sirius can barely listen to what James is saying, so engrossed as he is in running interference. More than once, he has had to briefly hex James' mouth shut to stop him from vomiting – the third time James swallows it back, he is already eager for the match to begin. Still, he continues to help James to 'lead', as the vomiting wouldn't exactly instil the team with confidence, and confidence is what they need, after the Slytherins have hissed to them gruesome and violent threats all week. Sirius casts an eye at the ashen faces around him – the weather, visibility wise, is not perfect, and some of these kids have barely played a match in their lives, having replaced seventh-years. James shakily recounts the 'plan' and hands Sirius and his fellow beater their bats, then leaves quickly, presumably to attempt throwing up again, under the pretence that he is going to speak to the referee. On the pitch, minutes later, he is not much better – Sirius has never seen him so white, and resorts to distraction tactics, as 'James, you prat, you'll be fine' doesn't seem to be working. He elbows his friend as they file onto the pitch.

"Hey, James. Isn't that that Evans bird, in the stands?"

James' head jerks towards the Gryffindor section. "What? Where?"

"Sitting with Remus and her little friend you know, whatshername. That's her, isn't it?"

"I can't see her."

"Near to Peter."

"I can't-"

"Whatever mate, she's well giving you the eye, though."

"Really?" James is so excited that Sirius feels guilty for lying to him, but who could spot one redhead from this far away, anyway? Let alone her  _eyes_. He's essentially taking one for the team, and James' mood seems vastly improved, despite the obviousness of Sirius' lie. "Maybe she's finally come round. Are you sure? I mean, she spoke to me the other day, and-" James rambles on in a whisper, and when the whistle blows the first time he barely reacts. Sirius elbows him again.

"Potter, you twat, go!"

James turns white again, broken out of his trance, and staggers towards the referee and the Slytherin captain, white as a sheet against the shit-eating grin of his opponent. They shake hands tersely and James immediately gets on his broom, as do they all, Sirius sure that this won't turn out well. As they rise into the air and James circles the pitch, Sirius rationalises that it will be worse if he worries about James instead of doing his job. He puts his friend out of his mind and slams his bat into the bludger hurtling towards him, neatly throwing a Slytherin player (looked like a third-year) off his broom. He grins, and pulls himself towards the Slytherin hoops at the end of the pitch, lying in wait, signalling to his fellow beater which players they will target (mostly he chooses to target based on personal reasons, but today he actually listens to strategy, out of loyalty. Again, the thought strikes him that he really is a brilliant mate. Perhaps one of the world's best.)

Twenty minutes later, they are flagging. Slytherin are up by one hundred and forty points, and Potter either needs to catch the snitch now or they need to do some serious catching up, because otherwise they will lose. Sirius thinks with a disgruntled expression that his fellow beater, Creevey, is a nervous, fluttering thing – he has seen him play, he is actually pretty decent, but stage fright seems to have rendered him mousey and retiring. Sirius finds himself having to yell, desperately, "Hit the fucking thing, don't romance it, you fucking idiot!" and he is getting the sense that his encouragement isn't working. Wearily, he casts around for James, and for any indication that they might have a chance at winning, whilst trying to keep an eye out for any attempts on his person.

Another unfortunate state of events is that Slytherin beaters are fantastic this year. They are two black-haired, good looking girls whom Sirius assumes he is distantly related to, them having the same aristocratic, incestual, squiffy eyed look to them that Sirius and his pureblood relatives also have. They are  _bloodthirsty_.

One of them wheels past him, shrieking with laughter as he swerves on his broom to narrowly miss the black ball taking his head off. He vaguely waves his bat at her in a threatening gesture, and she takes off to help in generally beating the shit out of the rest of the Gryffindor team. Sirius feels desperately lost, speeding after the bludger that nearly decapitated him and pelting it in the opposite direction, towards a Slytherin chaser, in possession of the quaffle. It clips the front end of his broom and sends him briefly spinning, but otherwise in no way impedes his progress. Sirius curses and takes after him, signalling Creevey to follow suit in continually whacking the bludger between them, the Slytherin chaser clutching the quaffle, trying to at least slow him down, if not stop him entirely. Sirius thinks vehemently that he would at this point benefit from murdering the sod and ending up in Askaban, because at least then it would save the shame and horror of losing so badly, so early in the year. He receives the bludger from Creevey and aims it at the chaser's head, and the chaser ducks. One of the Slytherin beaters is buzzing in his peripheral vision, her white teeth bared when, suddenly, the pitch explodes with red and gold sparks from the stands. Sirius wheels around, the other players stopped in shock, and looks around for James, whom he has barely seen since the match began. Not finding him in the air, Sirius looks down, and lo and behold –

There, on the ground, is his best friend, spread eagled, his chin dug some two inches into the dirt, the glittering snitch held aloft. He can hear, even from up here, James' exhilarated, demented whoop, and he smiles vaguely. Trust him to pull it back, for them to win by ten points – but they have won. Sirius pelts for the ground and with his fellow Gryffindors, cheers as the keeper and a chaser lift him up on their shoulders. Everyone (except those in green) is cheering. Behind him, one of the pretty Slytherin beaters angrily boots him in the shin, then walks off too fast for him to retaliate. He yells at James, hands cupped to his mouth.

"I told you you could do it, you magnificent git!" He gives James two thumbs up, and James shrugs, like he wasn't expelling all fluids from his body forty minutes ago. Like it was nothing. Sirius chuckles exasperatedly and follows the victory march to the Gryffindor common room, hands in pockets, glowing with pride.

XxX

Once they reach the common room, things dissolve very quickly. The Gryffindors rarely need an excuse to party, the acquirement of alcohol for underage wizards being old hat to them, so when they do have an excuse… it gets a little out of hand. James presses a bottle of beer into Sirius' hand, his fourth, when the excitement has dulled to a general energy in the room, and sits on a nearby desk. Sirius is leaning on the wall. As he cracks the cap off with his wand as a lever, James is looking out into the common room.

"That. Was the best thing ever."

Sirius nods. "Well done, mate. Couldn't be prouder."

"Shame, really, that I can't be captain again at practise next week." James says wistfully, and Sirius looks at him, incredulous.

"I'm not going through that ever,  _ever_  again." He smirks at James' put-out expression. "Look, you're a fantastic seeker, I've said it before, no one better, but-" He tries to sugar coat it and gives up. "You can't be captain. Not if you want me sane."

"Pft." James looks a little sullen, clearly disappointed. "Like you're ever sane, anyway."

"Well, exactly. I'm on the edge already-" he swigs from the bottle. "No sense in pushing me over."

James waves his words aside, clearly a little offended. "But it was a great catch, right?" he looks down at the mud that coats the entire front of his body. "Think Biggins would mind if I didn't ever wash these again?"

"I think he might." Sirius looks around. "Where are Moony and Wormtail? I could've sworn I saw them in the stands."

"I dunno, Kinsley and Wincott only just put me down. I saw them as we got up here, they said how good I was, and everything." He shrugs, and pushes himself off the desk with one hand, the other holding his bottle by the neck. "Anyway. I'm going to look for Evans, see if she wants to get with a professional Quidditch player." He winks. "I think today is my day."

Sirius snorts. "Good luck." He watches James melt into the crowd and casts around, feeling like a shadow in the corner of the room. Truth be told the adrenaline of the win is wearing off, and alcohol only makes him feel sleepier. He has not felt sick since Remus' last transformation, but sometimes the feeling lingers, an insistent pressure on his temples, a vague nausea. He pinches his nose, dragging his fingers up to the corners of his eyes, and blinks himself fully awake. Just as he is about to leave the beer and get something stronger, he spots James in the corner of the room, getting off with Lily Evans (or at least, a girl who looks exactly like her, because Sirius can't imagine it ever happening with the real girl). Feeling slightly left out from the apparent love-fest going on around him, he leaves the beer on the desk James was sitting on, and heads upstairs at the perfectly respectable time of nine thirty. Wondering when he became such a loser he slips out, trying to go unnoticed, and makes a note to get the number of one of those Slytherin beaters – distant cousins be damned. He wasn't looking to get them pregnant, after all, and the cousin thing had never bothered his parents.

He is brushing his teeth and vaguely scratching himself, looking at himself in the mirror, when the door to the dormitory opens. Without turning around, he says darkly, "Prongs, if that's you and Evans, you can fuck right off." He is met with silence and puts his toothbrush down, wandering out into the main space where their beds are, and something from a parallel universe, surely, is standing there, because Remus is leaning against the door, wavering, his pupils blown. He is drunk, and Sirius cackles just from the sight – first Prongs finally gets Evans to have physical contact with him beyond a slap, and now Remus is drunk. He adjusts his pyjama bottoms, fully expecting Peter to drift past the window on a winged pig.

"Alright, Moony?" He tries to hide the amusement in his voice, but can't. Remus looks at him through heavy lidded eyes, his lanky frame still pressed against the door.

"Sirius."

Sirius is impressed that he does not slur, but continues to smirk at Remus. "Yes, Moony?" He is being patronizing but relishes it, as Moony is usually so very, very composed.

"Didn' –" he falters a little, swaying minutely to the left. Collects himself. "Didn't know you'd be here."

"Thought I'd just go to bed. Bit tired, you know." Remus nods, distracted, and Sirius is slightly worried. "You, er, looking for something…?" he walks closer and Remus shakes his head, eyes on the ground, picking a spot on the floorboards and focusing on it. "Christ, Moony, you don't do anything by halves, do you?" The werewolf shrugs.

"Sirius, what were you going to talk about me today? I mean." He furrows his brows. "Talk to me. About. Today." Sirius laughs.

"Maybe some other time, mate. You going to bed, or…?" He doesn't really think that Remus should go back to the party, as he's already in danger of making a fool of himself, but is reluctant to play mother. He stands, peering into the werewolf's muggy eyes, trying to gauge how far gone he is, when Remus makes a not entirely human noise, balls his fists in Sirius' pyjama top, turns him, and pushes him clumsily against the wall. Sirius quails, the taller boy bearing down on him. "Moony?" But Remus has kissed him, messily, with the air of someone who has never been kissed themselves. He has pressed his lips to Sirius' again, but it is different to by the lake, their chaste touch, which Sirius has assumed until now was only to illustrate a point. Remus is obviously not sure where to go from here on and simply stands, pressing Sirius against the door, waiting for… what, Sirius doesn't know. He's never been in this situation before, and is trying to work out how to say 'whoa, what the _fuck_  is going on with you' without use of his mouth. Remus briefly pulls away, and looks at him. His face is very, very close, and Sirius, for the first time ever, associates him with the wolf – his eyes study Sirius in the same way the wolf does, unwavering. Sirius would not be entirely surprised right now if Remus sniffed him.

"Moons?" He says quietly, and Remus mutters 'no no, shut up, please' and kisses him again, with slightly less mad enthusiasm. Sirius wonders if he should be reacting in some way, but doesn't know how. Again, he tries delicacy and finds that it just doesn't fit him. He puts his hands on Remus' shoulders and separates them forcibly, holding the swaying boy at arm's length. "What's going on with you?" Remus' face falls.

"Please don't make me explain." He says quietly, and Sirius looks at him carefully.

" _Me_?"

"Don't." Says Remus, even less audible, and then the carnage, the anger – the wolf, essentially, is back in his eyes. "I just-" and he shrugs off Sirius' hands, much stronger, and clutches tighter to Sirius' pyjamas. He stinks, but he pulls them together a third time, and Sirius wonders absently if this ever works for anyone, this spontaneous-kissing-thing. He is mildly tipsy, sure, having had bottles foisted on him since they left the match, but all that has done is make him slightly more callous, and thus he has little time for whatever Remus is trying to do. He is also a bit uncomfortable that he isn't feeling – revulsion, or disgust, or whatever it is that men are supposed to feel when someone who is not a women kisses them. But he has never felt that way, and is prepared to accept that as just another thing that makes him as nutty as people say he is. Kissing Remus feels almost normal, like it is something he has done before, a long time ago, and just forgotten when or how. Nonetheless, this is hardly the time.

"Can we talk about this?" He ventures gently, and Remus looks utterly terrified. "I wouldn't ask, but obviously it has a little to do with me-" He is trying for humour but it's coming out wrong, because Remus just looks smaller and whiter and more scared with each word. "Moony?"

"Sorry." Remus says in a whisper, relaxing his grip on Sirius' front and pulling his hands away. He stands still and looks at them, then starts to drag them through his hair.

"This is kind of what I wanted to talk to you about today."

Remus says nothing. He looks at the floor, his hands at his neck and in his hair. He is flushed and trembling. "Sorry." And Sirius feels so desperately sorry for him that he puts a hand on Remus' neck and briefly pecks him on the lips, figuring that now it has happened three times, he is no longer just in for a penny. Remus does not move, again. Sirius takes his hands away.

"Don't be. It's okay."

Remus snorts. "No, it isn't."

"Okay, it isn't. But you and me, Moony. We're great." He puts a hand on Remus' shoulder and says softly, trying not to scare Remus again, "Animal magnetism, eh?"

"Ugh." Remus shrugs him off, and looks at him, less red. "Please don't tell anyone."

"Wouldn't dream of it." Sirius cocks a smile at him and straightens his t-shirt. "Well, if you don't mind, Moons, I'm off to bed." Remus nods, gaze still turned inwards, and shuffles to the bathroom, stumbling. Sirius climbs into bed and hears him mutter 'ow, fuck' as he stubs his toes on various objects. He rolls his eyes at the ceiling as Remus closes the door and casts a silencing charm so that Sirius can't hear him take an inordinately long piss. 'Poor kid', he thinks – but more to the point, he thinks 'Poor  _me_ '.

XxX

Sirius is awoken by James at ten in the morning, stumbling back into the dormitory and stage-whispering "Padfoot!", voice full of glee. Sirius sits up and pulls the curtains on his bed aside.

"What."

"Guess where I've been?"

"I have no idea, Prongs." He pinches the bridge of his nose as the night before comes back to him, and glances at the closed curtains of Remus' four-poster.

"Shall I give you a clue?"

"What? No, Prongs, just tell me." He says tiredly. James grins soppily, hands in pockets.

"Evans' dormitory."

Sirius snorts. "You're lying."

"Would I ever lie to you, Pads?"

"Yes. You definitely are now. Evans  _hates_  you."

"I beg to differ."

"So, what. You actually had sex with her?"

James' expression falls slightly. "Well. No… I sortof, fell asleep before we could get to that." He shrugs. "But we kissed! She kissed me!"

"Am I going to have to go to court over this? Did you confund her?"

" _No._ " James says, disappointed by the reaction. "I wouldn't do that, and I didn't have to." He tries to look casual and his ecstatic face betrays him. "She must have a thing for successful Quidditch players, that's all."

Sirius laughs. "I'm sure. Well, whatever you did, if it wasn't illegal, It's fine with me. I never thought she'd come around." He raised an eyebrow. "How did you get into her dormitory, anyway?"

James sits on his bed and pulls off his dirty shoes from the day before. "She levitated us." He says with a dreamy expression, looking out of the window. He turns back to Sirius, chin in his hand, and Sirius notices that his robes are still slathered in mud, now fully dry. "Girl's a dab hand with a wand, never seen anything like it." Sirius snorts.

"Too much information, Prongs. I still don't get why you fancy her so much, she's a right cow to me."

"Well, that's because you're a prat."

Sirius shrugs agreeably. "Fair enough." He looks at the final bed in the dormitory, next to James'. "Where's Pete?"

"God knows, last I saw him he was heading out of the portrait with some fourth year girl." He frowns. "Is Moony in? He's usually up by now."

"He stayed up late last night, I think. Probably all that excessive working catching up with him." Right on cue, there is a stirring from behind the curtains on Remus' bed, and the werewolf thrusts open one side of them with a hand, still lying with his face all but inside the pillow.

"Morning, Prongs." He says from the white folds of his bedclothes, voice thick and sluggish, his face grey and lined. He rubs a hand across his face and glances only briefly in Sirius' direction. "Did I hear correctly? You actually convinced Lily to touch you?"

James nods, attempting modesty, unable to contain himself again. "And she made the first move, and everything." He puffs his chest out self-consciously. "Obviously, I knew she'd come around eventually."

"You didn't… imperius her or something did you?"

Sirius chuckles. "I thought he'd confunded her. You're her mate, Moony, did she seem to be under the influence during the match?"

"You never know. James is alright with his love potions, it wouldn't be out of the question."

James, watching this exchange with his eyebrows drawn together, tuts moodily and flops back on the bed. "If you guys are finished taking the piss, I'd like to continue feeling great now, please." Remus turns and smiles sympathetically.

"Honestly Prongs, I'm impressed. Whatever you did, it worked. Congrats."

Sirius slides back under the covers. "Same from me. Now, fuck off with your sunny attitude, I'm exhausted."

Obviously twigging that he won't get anything else in the way of encouragement, James slopes off to the bathroom for a shower, whistling ' _A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love'_  cheerily. As soon as Sirius hears the shower go on in the bathroom, Remus coughs.

"You're probably wondering what the hell that was about last night." He says quietly, and Sirius rolls over to face him. Remus is sitting up in bed, legs crossed under the covers, looking severely worse for wear. Sirius' mouth twists, unsure.

"Only if you want to tell me."

"I think I probably owe you that much." Remus attempts a smile and then winces, clutching his head. "Oh, god, I feel awful."

"Welcome to my Saturday morning. I wish Prongs didn't find something to celebrate every fucking Friday, he'll be throwing at 'Lily Evans Got Off With Me' party sooner or later."

Remus laughs weakly. "Yeah, probably. Remind me not to join in."

"I will." Sirius stops smiling and looks at him. "Are you okay, though? Because honestly, Moony, I have no idea how I'm supposed to be reacting to this. You have to give me some sort of clue."

"You don't have to react at all, really, if you don't want to." Remus rolls his shoulders, pulling himself up. "I mean, I know how you feel and I'm…the way I am, so if you want to just forget about it, I'd be completely fine." There is a quavering note of hope in his voice, and Sirius feels guilty to squash it.

"I think I need to understand why you did what you did."

"Isn't it obvious?"

"Not really. I mean, is this to do with that day at the lake, or…?"

Remus looks at his hands in his lap. "To an extent. I meant to talk to you about that, but I just couldn't bring myself to, and then I got a bit merry and… forgot what my point was." He twists his hands together. "And then you know the rest, because I assaulted you." He reddens. "Sorry, Pads. I didn't mean to involve you like this."

"So is it just me, or…?"

"I'd rather not talk about it."

"It's just, the thing is, I wouldn't mind- if you're  _lonely_  –" Sirius isn't sure why he's offering, but it makes a lot of sense to him, and the kissing thing didn't really bother him, so why not? Remus is always alone anyway, so why not try to alleviate that loneliness? Sirius Black: shirtlifter, is kind of a rebellious title, anyway. He falters, though, at Remus' thunderous expression.

"It's not a joke, Pads."

"I wasn't joking!"

"Well, then, you're an idiot." Remus lies back on his pillow and puts a hand on either side of his head, eyes scrunched together. "Oh, god, why don't you lot complain more when you're hung over? I feel as if I've fallen down a flight of stairs onto my face."

"Get a glass of water when Prongs finishes. You'll feel better."

"I will." Remus sighs deeply. "I wish I hadn't gone and been such a twat."

"Seriously. Don't worry about it. I didn't mind, really."

"You're an odd one, Messr. Black." Remus says quietly, still looking up at the canopy of his bed. "I was fully expecting you to throw me in the lake after the way I behaved."

"Yeah, well-" Sirius pauses, hearing James turn off the shower, his whistling once again audible. He continues, quieter. "We're mates. Can't exactly go throwing your mates in the lake for no reason."

"Well, I wouldn't have blamed you if you had. But thanks." Remus turns to him, slumped again, strawberry-blonde hair flattened behind his head and spread messily on the pillow, dark circles under his eyes. "Friends?"

"Of course." Sirius yawns. "I should probably get up." Contrary to his words, he curls further into his duvet. He winces as James begins to sing. "Prongs is going to be insufferable if she doesn't end this now." He looks at Remus hopefully. "Maybe you could talk to her? Give her the antidote to whatever the hell he's done?"

"Shut up, Pads, I'm just glad he's not moping about her for once. Makes a nice change." With a drawn-out stretch, Remus swings his legs out of bed and sits there for a moment, a hand to his forehead. "Never drinking again." He mutters, and passes James as he leaves the bathroom with a weary "'bout time, Prongs." before going into the bathroom and locking the door behind him. James stands there drying his hair in loose fitting trousers and a long-sleeved t-shirt. He glances after Moony.

"You sure he's okay?"

"Yeah." Sirius buries his face in the pillow, then gets up. "Right. I can't sleep anymore." He pulls the covers back and gets shakily out of bed, legs unwilling to support him. "Up to much today, Prongs?" James shrugs.

"Might go and see if Evans is awake."

"You only just left her!"

"Yeah, but she was asleep. I just wanted to shower before she woke up."

"You're such a girl."

"Whatever." James continues to dry his hair with the towel, then puts it around his neck and peers at himself in the mirror, flicking at his hair and generally preening. "So, yeah. I'm going to try and get her to have lunch with me." He throws the towel onto his bed and stops just as he is about to leave. "You, er, want to come with?" His tone makes it clear that Sirius isn't supposed to say yes.

"Oh, get lost. I know when I'm not wanted." James grins sheepishly and leaves, still whistling. Sirius keeps one eye on the door as he messes with his hair in much the same way James did, hoping it's not too greasy to survive going without a wash. Saturdays are his day for inertia, and he doesn't want to further ruin this one by wasting it in the shower. He thinks that he should really do his homework, but settles instead for extracting James' snitch from the drawer where he knows it is kept, and letting it go and catching it, over and over. Remus emerges from the shower after ten minutes of this, and Sirius does not look at him. "I could be a seeker." He says absently, and then promptly misses the snitch by an inch. Obviously sensing freedom, it begins to flit around the room. Remus laughs.

"Maybe you should stick to what you know."

"Maybe." Sirius watches the snitch as it throws itself repeatedly against the window. "You want some lunch, Moony? James has gone and asked Evans to go with him, so I'm all alone."

"I'm so flattered to be second choice." Remus crosses to his bed and pulls a jumper from the chest at the foot of it, putting it over the t-shirt he is already wearing. "But yeah, I am hungry. Do you want to go now?" He glances at his watch. "It's only eleven."

"Is it?"

"We can go anyway."

"I don't mind waiting." Sirius realises that he might be feeling despondent because of the conversation he had with Remus about what happened last night, but he doesn't really know why. Perhaps he could just chalk it up to the madness, but it really didn't seem like Remus fought for him at all, and he is, selfishly, a little disappointed. He reasons, despite the fact that Remus was a bloke, that they really are quite well-suited to each other. And what was wrong with that? David Bowie, that muggle musician James liked so much, got off with the occasional bloke, and he was straight. Or whatever. The mania about it aside, Remus and him together hadn't felt wrong, just a little… frightening. Sirius frowns. "Hey, Moony?"

"Mm?" Remus is standing by the desk between he and Sirius' beds, studying a finished essay.

"You like me, right?"

Remus looks up. "Of course. You're not getting an inferiority complex now, just because James is off with Lily?"

"No, I mean. You know." Sirius raises his eyebrows meaningfully, and Remus looks at the essay again, careful to evade Sirius' eyes.

"Oh." He chews the inside of his mouth. "I think you already know the answer to that, Pads." His voice has grown infinitely quieter. Sirius moves and sits on Remus' bed, still in his pyjamas.

"Well, I've been thinking about it. And I just want to say that, if you're game, then I am."

Remus looks at him from where he stands by the desk. "I don't know what you mean."

"I mean. That whole business last night, that wasn't too bad, you know. And we're mates, so it makes weird sense, doesn't it?"

Remus looks at him suspiciously. "Are you taking the piss?"

"No, honestly." Sirius stands and moves closer, and Remus backs into the desk, trying to cover it up by moving slowly. "Why not, just… take it for a test drive? See where it goes?" He reaches for Remus' face, and Remus flinches away.

"That's not funny."

"I'm not  _trying_  to be funny." He puts a hand on Remus' cheek and Remus eyes the hand with terror, especially when Sirius comes even closer and kisses him, turning his head into it, hoping that the werewolf will understand. Remus pushes him off after a moment.

"Are you serious?"

"That's what they call me."

"No, fuck off, I mean-" He is red and faltering quickly, looking at Sirius' mouth. "I'm really just happy with you being okay with it, Sirius." He so rarely uses Sirius' real name. "You don't have to do …this."

"I know I don't  _have to_ , are you an idiot? Isn't this what you wanted?"

"I never-" Remus braces himself against the desk with his hand, leaning away, knuckles white. "I never said I  _wanted_ you." He says in an embarrassed whisper, and Sirius moves so they are just about chest to chest. The essay lies forgotten on Remus' desk, dropped from his grasp.

"Well you could've fooled me."

"Are you sure you're not taking the piss?"

Sirius kisses him again, in answer, and Remus still does not respond. Sirius pulls back, irritated. "Why on earth would I kiss you if I was taking the piss?"

"I don't know."

"I don't know what else I can give you here, Moony _._ "

Remus balks a little at his wording. "What about James and Peter?"

"I don't tell them every time I take piss, I'm sure I can find a way to omit this, too."

" _If_." He says, and Sirius grins, knowing that is as close to an agreement as he will ever get. " _If_  we did this, I wouldn't want a commitment. I don't want to pull you away, just for me."

"Okay. Fine." Sirius hadn't really considered commitment anyway, the word isn't in his vocabulary.

"And you're really not having me on?" Sirius rolls his eyes and pulls them together again, pressing his tongue into Remus' mouth, eyes closed. Remus laughs against him, and Sirius, again, pulls away.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Moons?"

"Sorry. Sorry." Remus attempts to pull himself together, still laughing a little, and lets Sirius kiss him again, hovering his hands over Sirius' forearm and shoulder before gathering the courage to put them down. As Sirius kisses him, his grip tightens. When Sirius starts to gently drag him towards the bed, Remus stops him. "What're you doing?"

Sirius looks at him, bewildered. "I'm your mate, and now I'm the bloke you do this with, Moons, but don't make me be your biology teacher, too."

"I just don't think we should."

"I'm not going to try and fuck you, Moons. I was just going to sit down." Sirius smiles at him, and Remus looks marginally annoyed.

"You could have fucking fooled  _me_."

"Would you?"

"Would I what?" Remus looks at him, and their faces, Sirius is suddenly, weirdly aware, are very close together. "What,  _fuck_  you?" He says in disbelief, and Sirius shrugs.

"Yeah."

" _Jesus_ , is this how you are with women?"

"I just have to ask, you know, because… It wouldn't really bother me, if you wanted to."

"I think you're making promises you can't deliver on here, Sirius."

"Okay. Think about it, then, and let me know." He says earnestly, and Remus doesn't really say anything at all, until Sirius leans forward and kisses him, briefly, again.

"You are the biggest slag ever." Remus says tiredly, but he is smiling, albeit wearily.

"Hey, you want to fuck the biggest slag ever, surely-" He stops, hearing footsteps on the stairs ahead of the dormitory. Remus removes himself from Sirius quickly, and sits at the desk just before Peter comes in. Sirius sits on his own bed and looks at the snitch, still banging into the window. "Shut the door Pete, Prongs'll go spare if the bloody thing escapes." Peter does so, and wanders over to the trunk at the foot of his bed.

"Last night was ridiculous." He looks at them both. "Where's James?"

"Finally got with Evans, didn't he?" Sirius looks at Peter over his shoulder. "He said something about trying to have lunch with her, so he's either in the great hall, or in a corner somewhere, hexed to death." Peter chuckles.

"Bloody hell. Never thought I'd see the day."

"Us neither." Remus says, and Sirius is pleased that he's found the ability to speak. "Have you done that essay for Arithmancy, Pete? Only, I'm stuck." Peter shakes his head.

"Haven't even started, is that in for Monday?"

"Yeah."

"Shit."

"It's okay, you can help me finish mine, and I'll help you do yours." He looks at Sirius. "We were going to get some lunch, Pete. You want to come with?"

Peter shakes his head, digging through the trunk still. He pulls out several books. "No, I'm really behind. I had to leave Amanda early, I've got about fifty essays to write. Bring me something back, though?"

"Sure. Amanda's the fourth year, I assume?"

Peter smiles. "She is indeed, but I can't tell you her second name, because I assume you'll all try to make her life a living hell."

"You've got us, there." Says Sirius, changing his pyjama top for a sweatshirt with 'NEVER MIND THE BOLLOCKS' printed on the front. He can feel Remus' eyes on him, and feels simultaneously uncomfortable with, and proud of, his actions this morning. He has gotten more done before lunch today, he thinks wryly, than possibly ever before in his life. He hopes vaguely he won't come to regret it. No matter what comes of this, he knows the marauders won't disband, but even so he feels a sense of trepidation, purely from the 'newness' of this thing he has decided they now _do_. He stands and goes to the window, grabbing the struggling snitch and shoving it into James' drawer again. "Daft thing. I don't know why it never tries to escape when Prongs has it outside." Peter shrugs from the floor next to his trunk and Sirius walks to the door. He turns back. "Coming, Moony?" Remus glances up, looking a little like he had forgotten anyone else was there.

"Yeah, hold on a sec." He puts the essay he was poring over in the desk, and crosses to the door. Together, with a cursory and sympathetic goodbye to Peter, they wander down to the Great Hall. On the way, Remus stops him by briefly touching his arm. "Sirius, are you sure about this?"

"About lunch?"

"No, you berk."

"Yes, I'm sure. If I ever stop being sure, I'll be sure to let you know." He mocks, elbowing Remus in the side.

"Arse." Remus says under his breath, and Sirius ignores him as they go into the Great Hall. It is not as packed as it is during the week, some students having gone home for the weekend, and others having slept in past lunch. Most of Gryffindor tower is missing, and Sirius is thankful, again, that he didn't drink as much as usual. Remus spots James, completely alone, and sighs. "Looks like Prongs didn't do as well as he thought."

"Maybe the potion wore off?"

"At least he's not lying in a corner somewhere with his teeth growing past his knees. Or dead." He adds as an afterthought, optimistically. They sit down with James, Sirius opposite, Remus beside him. "Alright, Prongs? Where's Evans?"

James shrugs. "Couldn't get up the girls' staircase."

"Why didn't you come get us?"

"Dunno." He says, clearly miserable. He pushes the egg he is eating around his plate.

"I wouldn't fret, Prongs, I'm sure she still likes you – she spent last night with you, after all." Remus says sagely, and James looks at him from underneath his hair.

"She came out of the dormitory, 'cause I was shouting, and told me to fuck off."

"Oh."

James rests his chin in his hand. "I don't get her at all."

Sirius shrugs, helping himself to beans on toast. Much of the food here is breakfast-oriented, as the house-elves know very well that few people between the ages of eleven and eighteen get up for breakfast at seven on a Saturday. "Forget about her, then, Prongs. She's a silly bitch if she's trying to love you and leave you-" he coughs. "So to speak."

"Mm." James continues to push his food around, still in the doldrums. He looks at Remus pitifully. "Could you talk to her? Please?"

Remus pulls a face. "I promised her I wouldn't, Prongs. She said she wasn't going to be my friend anymore if I kept telling her to go out with you."

"But we kissed!"

Remus shrugs, conceding to James' anguish. "I might be able to talk to her a little bit. At least find out what you did wrong, or something. Can't promise anything, though." James brightens considerably.

"Okay. Good. I'm sure I've got a shot, still, I mean… she wouldn't kiss me if I had no chance at all, would she?"

"No, definitely not." Remus looks at Sirius with unease as James actually starts to eat, and Sirius, too is thinking that James will end up disappointed, curled in a ball at the foot of his bed, whingeing to them. Sirius looks forward to it in the same way that he looks forward to doctors' appointments and Ancient Runes exams and having his fingernails removed with pliers. He shovels food into his mouth, realising only now the extent of his hunger, and considering, again, Remus. He tries to look at the werewolf's face inconspicuously, still angled towards his plate, trying to suss if he looks angry or sad or… anything at all, but he can't tell. The strained, folded smile is gone, but Remus' forehead is creased like it was when they kissed, and he keeps fiddling with his cutlery, not really eating at all. James frowns at his egg.

"This is cold."

"That's what you get if you sit around moping, Prongs." Sirius shrugs, barely looking up from his food.

"What, cold eggs?"

"Among other things."

James sighs heavily. "I think I love her." Sirius chokes on a mouthful of toast.

" _Why?_ "

"Why not?" James counters coldly, glaring at him. "She's fit, and clever, and nice… To other people. Moony's her friend, he gets it!" James gestures at Remus, who is clearly reluctant to choose sides, and responds as neutrally as possible.

"She's really alright if you get to know her, Pads. She just judged you a bit quickly because you're always hexing the Slytherins."

James nods, gesturing with a fork. "See, and Moony's a really good judge of character, too."

"Well I don't deny that he's got good taste." Sirius grins at Remus, who frowns back irritably. "But I don't see any point in getting on with a girl who won't hex a Slytherin."

"Not everyone has as violent tendencies as you," Remus says, chewing, and reaching for the teapot between them. "At the very least, she's an intellectual equal. You and her get almost exactly the same marks."

"Whatever. She's still a rude cow."

James leans his head on his hand. "Maybe if I talked to her myself, it would make a better impression."

"Maybe." Remus shrugs thoughtfully. "I'll still have a chat with her, though." He finishes the last of his tea quickly, before pushing himself out of his chair. "Right, well, I said I'd do my Arithmancy with Pete. What'll you two do today?"

"I expect Prongs will mope, and I'll try desperately to understand why he likes such a silly bitch."

"Ah, well. Have fun." Remus half-waves as he leaves, and then, embarrassed, tries to incorporate it into his walk, like it never happened at all. Sirius watches him go, and then turns back as a whine escapes James.

" _Padfoot_ , why doesn't she  _love me?"_

Sirius spears himself a couple of sausages and tries desperately to ignore him.

XxX

As February gradually appeared on the scene, and Quidditch season truly got underway, Sirius found himself, more often than not, alone. After the incident with Lily, James undertook renewed efforts to 'romance' her, which mostly involved charming each and every thing in her life to shriek 'TALK TO JAMES!' at random intervals. Funny as Sirius found it when she removed her quill from her bag in lessons and its screaming made her fall off her chair, he was unnerved by the fact that it actually seemed to  _work._

In a fit of pique one night in late January, ten days after she and James had kissed, Lily confronted him in the common room, seething, waving her bag in his face and hissing obscenities to the effect of "Will you please leave my personal belongings alone, you insufferable, air headed, inconsiderate fuckface?" – but James just looked at her from where he sat beside Sirius and asked, without a trace of his usual Lily-related silliness, why she didn't speak to him after what happened. And Lily's face fell, and her arm, lifted high with the bag in hand, dropped slightly. She looked around, embarrassed.

"You left me." She said quietly, going red, and James stared at her.

" _That's_  why you're upset?"

"Well, yeah, what, we kiss all night, you're…" she avoided his eyes "Pretty much a perfect gentleman, and then I wake up in the morning and you've gone to tell your friends what a slag I am, or something." She grimaced. James gaped.

"I went to shower! So I wouldn't smell! I came back to see if you wanted to get lunch! You told me to fuck off!"

"I was upset."

"Yeah, but…" he gestured wildly. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't really want to talk to you, I felt like…" she wrinkled her nose. "Like, like a conquest or something."

"But I fancy you!"

"But what if you only like me because I won't go out with you?"

"Well, that'd be… really stupid." James briefly knitted his brows. "Look, Lily, do you want to come to Hogsmeade with me? Or something?" He faltered. "You know, we could. Talk about it."

She still looked vaguely affronted, and her mouth twisted. "I'll think about it." With less of an offended air, she shuffled slightly towards the girls dormitory. "Sorry I didn't talk to you before. Remus told me to, I just." She tugged on a strand of hair near her face. "It doesn't matter. Hogsmeade would be nice." She smiled gently, looking at the floor. James, again, gaped at her.

"Really?"

"If you like. On a - probationary basis, of course."

"Of course." James muttered, awestruck, as she walked away. As soon as the door to the girls' dormitory closed, the common room rippled with disbelief. James threw himself out of his chair, onto his knees, face pointed to the ceiling, both fists in the air, and waved his arms, shouting. "Yes!" Sirius cast his eyes towards the ceiling also, resigned, and patted him vaguely on the back.

"Well done, Prongs. Try not to fuck it up."

"I won't." James said seriously, arms lowered, looking at his hands. "Padfoot, I'm going to  _marry_  that girl."

"Whatever you say."

Sirius honestly hadn't expected it to last long, due to Evans' temper, and her ability to flip out at the slightest inconvenience, but after they spoke James went to see her a second time, and she started to take on an almost entirely different, sheepish attitude around James, continually tucking her hair behind her ears and looking, Sirius thought with derision, awfully  _coy_. She still made no secret of the fact that she hated James' friends, but made a conscious effort not to scream at them quite as often. All this would have been fine, had this mutual understanding between James and Lily not progressed very quickly into hand-holding and sitting by the fire in each others laps, gazing into one another's eyes, James grabbing her around the waist whenever he saw her, confiding in Sirius dreamily that it was to 'check that she was real'. Sirius often scoffed from the corner of the room, eyeing their affectionate display with nausea.

He supposes, though, that he is a little jealous. James is his best friend, and now that he has Lily, even though he is still there when Sirius wakes up, and will still there every full moon, he feels that he is moving, infinitesimally, away. It doesn't help either that since Sirius made his decision about Remus they have hardly had a moment alone, interrupted just as Sirius tries to make any kind of move by Peter, missing James, or by James, squawking continually about Lily. Remus does nothing to help, still slightly prickly and retiring, avoiding Sirius' gaze whenever they are together, ignoring the way that Sirius stares so intently at him, trying to make Peter or James disappear with a look. The vague disappointment he felt before at not being fought for has spread into a wider, hungrier feeling, a tugging at him that makes him, honestly,  _want_ for Remus, makes him long for a morning, for any measure of time when they are both alone, if only so that he can feel this thing between the two of them out.

xxx

After a particularly misty and asthma-inducing session of Divination, Sirius climbs down from the ladder to the classroom and wanders aimlessly through the castle. He took Divination assuming it would be a doss, and it is – but he is hysterically bored by it, and James has dropped it in favour of Care of Magical Creatures (he is trying to convince his mother, through example of his grades, that he is old enough to own a Hippogriff. Mrs Potter, despite the factual evidence, is less than positive about it). He thrusts his hands into his pockets and trudges downstairs alone, feeling distinctly moody, barely even noticing when a pale hand swims into vision. He looks up to find Celeste, one of the Slytherin beaters, looking at him with hands on hips. Her long black hair hangs around her sharp features, and she smiles. She is a good few inches taller than Sirius, he thinks resentfully. It seems, these days, that  _everyone_ is.

"Afternoon, Black." She says softly, and he raises an eyebrow at her.

"Afternoon. I hope you didn't bring your bat."

She laughs. "No, not this time. Listen. I've been watching you at practise, and you-" she smirks. "You've got potential, I'll give you that."

"Well thanks." He looks around, confused. "Sorry to be rude, but are you planning to attack me?"

She laughs again. "Only if you want me to."

"I think you're alright, in that respect."

"I wondered if you were busy. If you had anyone to go to Hogsmeade with this weekend, I mean." She clasps her hands behind her back. "I know we're from different houses, but I'm sure we can get past it, right?"

Sirius shrugs. "Maybe we can." He looks her up and down, unabashedly. She meets his eyes in the same way. "Okay, you're on. I'll meet you at the Three Broomsticks, you can buy me a drink."

She grins. "See you then." And sashays away, without looking back. Sirius feels his ego swell as she leaves, and returns to the Gryffindor common room much more cheerful to find Remus alone, sitting with his back against one of the arms of the sofa, his legs stretched out, reading. Sirius plops down beside him.

"Up to much, Moony?" Remus looks up, surprised.

"No, not really, just revising for Transfiguration. I can't seem to do that 'rat-into-goblet' thing." He gestures at a brown, furry cup on the table. "It keeps coming out rat skinned, it's sort of disgusting, really." Sirius isn't really listening, but nods anyway. He shuffles closer.

"Hey, Moony." He rests his arm on the back of the sofa, and Remus eyes it suspiciously. "Look around."

"Pads, I'm really a bit busy, I-" he looks down, to where Sirius has his hand on his knee. "Whatever you're doing, stop it." He says firmly, folding a corner of the page he is on and putting the book down. "We're in the middle of the common room." Sirius ignores him and kneels on the sofa, leaning so that his folded arms are resting on Remus' chest, and Remus is thoroughly annoyed. "Pads. Seriously." Sirius kisses him on the lips, mouth closed, and Remus quietens slightly. "Is this really the right time?" He mutters, looking a little lost. Sirius uncrosses his arms, laying one on Remus' stomach, the other behind his ear.

"Seems as good a time as any." He kisses Remus again, who breathes in sharply through his nose and puts a hand over the hand on his stomach. He turns his head to the side. "This is a stupid idea. Are you skipping lessons to do this?"

"No, I'm finished for the day." Sirius moves his thumb in circles on the fabric of Remus' shirt, never breaking eye contact. "No one is about, Moony. It's two in the afternoon. Who's about then?"

"Well." Remus looks a little defiant. "You are."

"So are you, but I think that's kind of… necessary for this." Sirius kisses the space between Remus' neck and ear, breathing in. "You're impossible to get alone."

Remus looks at him funny when he pulls away briefly. "What're you doing, Pads?"

Sirius makes a noise, he isn't sure why. He kisses Remus' jawline, near to his chin. He closes his eyes. "Missed you." He says quietly, and realises that he isn't lying. "Didn't agree to this for nothing." He kisses further down, where Remus' adam's apple juts from his long neck, and Remus, taking initiative, pulls his face up with a hand.

"What  _did_ you agree to this for?"

"Seemed like a good idea at the time."

"For you, everything does."

Sirius looks at his frowning face and shrugs, moving further up, sitting, practically, on the werewolf's stomach. Points for audacity are always being calculated in his mind. "Come on, Moons, I'm doing you a favour." He smiles, tilting his head to the side. " _Let me_." And he lays another soft kiss to Remus' jaw. The werewolf's hands twitch at his sides. He sits up, pushing Sirius out of his lap.

"Then why do I feel like I'm being ambushed?" He is smiling, though. His hands shake when he reaches for Sirius' face. "You've got lovely hair, you know." He tries to disguise embarrassment at his words by letting his hand fall on Sirius' shoulder. Sirius just sits still, kneeling on the sofa, letting him do whatever. He is struck by that same kind of wistful desire he feels now, whenever Remus is alone in the room with him, like something might happen, but he doesn't know what, or even if it will happen at all. It makes him feel sleepy and vague. He thinks of the Slytherin beater briefly, of her aggressive attitude, and wonders if, if he goes out with her, this will count as infidelity – but it's a moot point, because Sirius would never go out with her, or with anyone, for that matter.

He forgets his thread briefly when Remus, moving slowly until now, pushes his mouth at him, kisses him fiercely. Sirius responds in kind, Remus pushing at him, until his back hits the other arm of the sofa, and he bangs his head off the end table, muttering 'fuck!' against Remus' mouth. The werewolf pulls away. "Sorry." Remus is sitting on him, must the same way that he did, seconds before, and Sirius is torn by the mad desire to laugh, but resists to avoid hurting his friend's feelings. He rubs the back of his head instead.

"Ouch, Moony. Enthusiasm appreciated, though."

Remus is still looking at his mouth. "No problem."

"Hey." Sirius says before Remus can get close enough to kiss him again, "How come it's so difficult to get hold of you?" He moves his legs so that they're stretched in front of him, to get more comfortable. "And." He continues doggedly, testing his boundaries, "You haven't answered my question yet."

"About what?"

"About whether you'd-" Sirius tries to gesture and then gives up, but can't find the right words, either. Luckily, Remus seems to have understood, judging by his mildly spaced-out expression.

"I don't know."

"Have you at least thought about it?"

"How could I not?" Remus says quietly, eyes down. "I'm just worried."

"About what? I wouldn't do anything without your express consent, Moony, do you think I'm some sort of  _animal_?" He grins at the joke and Remus doesn't really dignify it with a response.

"Not worried about  _me,_ you idiot, about  _you_."

"Me?"

"Well, yeah. You're not even… I don't understand why you would want to…" He trails off. He looks at Sirius. "And if you say you're just doing it to be a mate, I will kill you. Have you seen Peter and James like this lately?" He gestures at them, at his knees straddling Sirius' waist. Sirius snorts.

"Oh please, don't ruin the moment with imagery. I'll be having nightmares."

"You didn't answer me."

Sirius rolls his head back, supporting himself on his elbows. Remus is not heavy, but he's been sitting still for a bit too long, and Sirius' legs are falling asleep. "I just wouldn't mind, that's all. Do I have to explain  _everything_  I do?" but he is feigning indignation really, because he doesn't  _have_  an answer, and truth be told, the idea of actually having  _sex_ with his  _friend_ seems like an alien, totally inconceivable concept. He doesn't even know how it  _works_ , for god's sake, apart from what he's heard in whispers. He doesn't know what he'd be able to do for Remus, beyond what he has done for himself, alone. He is  _willing_ , but at this point in time, willingness is a little too easy.

"I doubt that you could."

"Exactly. And you're wasting time, it could be years before I catch you alone again."

"Mm, that's true." Remus muses, leaning down again, and Sirius rather enjoying the fact that the kissing is better, Remus a bit more comfortable, though still tentative and strange in his movements. He grips at Sirius' upper arm like he is gift, like he isn't really real, breathing sharply through his nose sometimes, never making an actual, definable noise. Sirius wonders if it is narcissistic to get hard thinking about how much someone  _else_ likes  _you._ He doesn't know if Remus has noticed, or what, but the werewolf balls his fists in Sirius' shirt again, like the first time, and pulls him up, kissing him open-mouthed, missing his mouth entirely sometimes, Sirius trying to keep up, thinking continually how strange it is to see Remus with feelings below the waist, with – heaven forbid – a  _libido._  He had been starting to think it didn't exist.

Bravely, Sirius tucks a strand of hair behind the werewolf's ear, letting his hand settle against his cheek, the other on his waist. Either it's been  _far_ too long since he's had sex or he's really enjoying himself, because when they pull apart briefly they are both breathing heavily, Remus' pupils blown wide, eyes fixed on his own. Remus' eyes are yellow, almost brown. His face is flushed and he keeps looking away, and Sirius tries to ignore his own dick for a second (and Remus', which he can feel, for god's sake, what was the question again?) and calm down, because his friend keeps eyeing him with barely disguised interest, more than before, his mouth slightly open. He looks either horrified or enraptured, and Sirius hopes vaguely that it is the second, because otherwise they'll have to dance around another for a  _further_ two weeks, and he doesn't want to do that again. Or miss his friend again, just because they do something now that is… new. He wonders if understatement makes this whole thing easier to process, because he seems to do it a lot. Remus gets up gingerly, careful to barely touch him, and sits down at the other end of the sofa. Sirius pulls himself up to sit upright instead of lying on the sofa like the pillow-biter he so obviously has become in the last five minutes.

"Well." Remus says slowly, laughing. "I think I need to do some work." He looks at Sirius, still red but pulling himself together again, resolutely not looking anywhere below his neck. "You can do this, right?" He nods at the 'cup' on the table.

Sirius shrugs, still a little mystified, amazed at Remus' ability to go from  _that_ to businesslike in fifteen seconds and reaches for the furry goblet, which lets out a small squeak in protest. "Yeah, but Mcgonagall still says mine aren't detailed enough." He turns it over in his hands, smiling when it grumbles at him.

"They're not furry, though?"

"No, they're not furry." Sirius prods at the goblet. "This is interesting though, in a twisted, macabre kind of way."

"Despite that, it's not helping my grade." Remus takes the goblet from him and sets it on the table again, turning it back into a (distinctly worse for wear) rat. The rat sits looking at him, petrified, then attempts to run off – Remus summons it back with a lazy flick of his wand, picked up from the table. Animals are terrified of Remus. Sirius wonders if it bothers him at all, like so many of the other offshoots from the being-a-magical-creature thing. He can't ask. Remus settles the rat back on the table again, and then looks to Sirius briefly. "Just, see if you can tell what I'm doing wrong." Remus prods his wand towards the creature gently, muttering the words, and the rat promptly turns into a different, but still furry, goblet. The disappointment is clear on Remus' face, and Sirius feels (not for the first time) slightly guilty that everything comes so easily to him. He and Remus do just as well as each other in school, Remus sometimes better, but whereas he does very little except grant his books a cursory glance before an exam, Remus is always, always working just to maintain his excellent performance. He is always trying to prove himself, never doing anything halfway. It is one of the sources of Sirius' great respect for him, his ability to throw himself, bodily, at anything he does. He supposes that's why Remus kissed him, why they are doing this despite trepidation – because Remus can't do anything  _less_. And he supposes, in part, neither can he. Sirius doesn't patronize him by putting his hand over Remus' own.

"The way you say it is fine, I think it's the movement you're missing –" he tries to explain, Remus looking at him. "it's sort of, a gentler movement. Same speed, but with less of a poking…movement. Do you know what I mean?" Remus nods, turns the goblet back into a rat, then tries again, taking into account Sirius' words, before the animal can move again. The goblet is still the dun colour of the rat, but no longer distinctly hairy. Remus picks it up and hands it to Sirius – it doesn't feel like warm skin, or make a noise. "That's great."

Remus shrugs. "It's better, thanks." He takes the goblet back and turns it back into the increasingly frazzled rat, turning it from rat to goblet over and over, the cup turning greyer and then, shinier, with each subsequent attempt. Sirius is content to watch. After twenty or thirty more attempts, Remus clearly growing frustrated but persevering, the goblet that emerges is plain, but smooth, and made of metal. Remus looks at him and Sirius nods, pleased. Remus laughs. "Sorry, this is probably boring the hell out of you."

"No, it's okay. I don't have anything to do, anyway." Remus smiles gratefully and Sirius thinks of how barbed and sarcastic he can be, and of how that turns into this – the almost-shyness, the disapproving, eye-rolling brand of affection Remus seems to have turned into an art and directed solely at the marauders. He smirks back, no teeth, leaning back on the sofa, watching the back of Remus' head as he leans forward to go goblet, rat, goblet, rat, over and over again. He wants to touch Remus' hair, to lean forward and pull the werewolf back, but he thinks it would be a little too romantic, and that's not exactly what they're meant to be going for.

XxX

Sirius had hardly realised it was valentine's day that Hogsmeade weekend, but it drew itself, shaking out of the ground with such certainty and weight that by Saturday, he was so desperately aware of it that he was tempted to throw himself out of the window. James had been utterly insufferable, pretending to play it cool but spending every spare minute in Lily's presence, and all other minutes agonizing over what to get her. Sirius had said "Stuff it, Prongs." So many times that the words had lost their meaning.

Friday night finds James in a profound state of disrepair, still having chosen nothing for Lily, Remus being no help whatsoever in terms of reconnaissance, and Sirius refusing to help on grounds that it would damage his sanity. Peter tries desperately to assist but only succeeds in making a nuisance of himself by asking questions about what Lily liked, and throwing light on the fact that James doesn't actually  _know,_ beyond the fact that she used to like hexing him into oblivion, and now she liked doing that slightly less.

He sighs, lying on his bed, staring up at the curtains as Sirius tries to get an essay done (but more successfully transfigures little dragons out of paper and shoots them off the desk at Remus' head). As James releases another long-suffering sigh, Sirius directs the dragons at him, instead.

"Prongs, if you stopped whingeing for a second, maybe you'd figure out that you've been together for less than a month, and you don't actually  _need_ to get her anything at all." James pushed himself up, having previously been lying face-down in the duvet.

"Are you fucking kidding me? She's been going on about how brilliant what she got me is all week, if I don't get anything she won't just break up with me, she'll murder me with her bare hands!"

"Ah, well then, it was nice knowing you." Sirius stares at his own handwriting for a moment, unable to make head nor tail of it, before transfiguring another dragon and placing a tiny paper person on its back, sending the little paper person flying when he directs it, again, at James. Remus looks up from his book which is, for once, something not work-related.

"Have you thought of…generic girl things? You know... like, chocolates." He says, grasping at straws. "Or, a teddy bear."

"I think that might be worse than not getting her anything at all."

"Then why don't you just ask her?"

"It's too late now, she'll know I haven't got her anything."

Remus lowers his book, exasperated. "Then you're right, fine, she'll kill you and it's a completely unsolvable problem. See you in the afterlife."

Peter, sitting on the floor and glancing worriedly at James from time to time, seems not to be able to find the words, afraid James will wail at him again. James wails at no one in particular, face in the duvet. "You guys are so lucky, being single."

"Speak for yourself, Prongs. I'm meeting Celeste from a drink tomorrow in Hogsmeade." Remus looks at him.

"Which one is Celeste?"

"One of the beaters for Slytherin, long black hair."

"Which one?"

"How should I know?" Sirius shrugs. James makes an indignant noise.

"You're such a  _traitor_ , didn't she  _kick you_  after the last match?"

Sirius shrugs again. "You of all people, Prongs, know that there is a thin line between love and hate."

"Or in your case, between being a slag and taking literally  _anything_ that throws itself at you."

"What can I say? At least I'm not whipped, like you."

James frowns, like he knows there is no point in denying it, but is still irritated. "At least I'm not  _ugly,_ like  _you._ "

Sirius just laughs, and attempts to add a few more lines to his essay – he has forgotten the title at this point, and the threads of his conclusions and paragraphs are unravelling before his very eyes. He kneads his forehead and forges ahead, adding a couple of trivial sentences repeating his earlier points, purely to flesh it out. He slumps and looks at Peter. "Hey, Pete, you do Defence, right?"

Peter nods. "Don't ask me about the essay though, I'm sure I got the whole thing wrong."

"Oh, come on. You liar. What did you do yours on?"

"Hinkypunks. It was hell finding all the examples, too, 'cause none of their victims tend to come back."

"Damn, I'm doing vampires. I thought it was more interesting, but turns out they're just a bunch of pale bastards. Word is that most of them are turning vegetarian these days." Sirius twirls a pen in his fingers. "Pathetic really. I know at least one person who's a  _proper_ dark creature." Sirius grins toothily at Remus who looks, at best, displeased.

"Oh cheers, yes, I really do love eating children and all that lark."

"I'm just saying, you're a sight scarier than this bloke-" Sirius holds up the textbook and points at a photograph of a waiflike vampire, chewing pathetically on a lettuce leaf and looking distinctly nauseous. Remus glances at it superficially, and Sirius gets the impression that he's not in the mood, especially since the full moon is on Sunday, just two nights away.

He gives up with a shrug and puts his quill to paper again, doing nothing more significant than creating a series of ellipses as he tries to think of something else to say about vampire hunting in the 1800s, which was largely a fucking waste of time, in his opinion, as anyone who did it either got eaten, turned into a vampire, or ended up going a bit soft for the vampires and giving up on moral grounds. He looks at James, who is playing with the snitch now, its little gold body flitting lightly around his head as he lets it go and brings it back repeatedly, lost in thought. The four of them are all slightly prickly tonight, and getting on one another's nerves for various reasons, but Remus has been markedly different with him since their session earlier in the week, and he had thought things were at least incrementally changing. Still, the nights before the full moon always made Remus a little weird and quick to anger, so he was letting it go instead of taking issue. After all, they were not actually fighting, so there was no real problem.

He stole a sidelong glance at Remus, whose nose was pressed to the book as if he read through sense of smell rather than sight. Smiling, he turned back to his essay, resisting the urge to write ' _vampires are all a bunch of pathetic wankers…'_

XxX

James left for Hogsmeade with the same air as he had leaving to be Quidditch captain stand-in – he looked close to vomiting, and was green and wavering when Lily led them away through the snowy streets towards god-knows-where. James had lied quickly about taking her somewhere instead of giving her a physical gift, and had reacted to her excitement with a terrified, wide-eyed shrug over her shoulder at Sirius, who just laughed. Remus and Peter were, James joked, each other's valentines today, as Amanda had come down with some kind of terrible, contagious affliction the day before last, which from what Sirius gathered largely involved lying in the hospital wing expelling generous amounts of pus. Sirius didn't really blame him for palling around with Remus instead, even if they did look a little forlorn trotting off to Honeyduke's together.

He goes quickly to the three broomsticks, fashionably late after hanging around with Peter and Remus for a bit, trying not to appear too eager. This is largely because he doesn't  _feel_ too eager, perhaps a little unnerved by James' implication that he was fraternising with the enemy, or by the fact that Remus has taken on his pre-transformation look – wan and greyed around the edges, occasionally sitting down or rubbing his temples, insisting that he is perfectly fine. Sirius tries not to think about it when he settles himself in front of the bar, watching as the pub's burly owner carries his tiny, pretty daughter around on his shoulders. It isn't busy, and students are only just starting to filter in from the cold, so Sirius is fairly confident she hasn't yet arrived, and orders a butterbeer. It is weird for him to meet a girl and for her to show up later than him, but truth be told, it makes it a little easier for him to be interested in her. She finally waltzes in twenty minutes after Sirius does, her black hair hidden underneath a black and green hat and scarf. She slides into the seat beside him and removes the hat, shaking her head, and Sirius thinks she is trying just a little too hard. Really.

"Afternoon." She says, sounding pleased. The three broomsticks is only marginally decked out for valentines' day, offering a valentines' special on meals, and a pink cocktail Sirius wouldn't touch with a fifty foot bargepole, let alone purchase. He is relieved she didn't suggest Madam Puddifoot's, as he's been with Puddifoot girls before, and they are nigh-insufferable; Puddifoot's feels, to him, like a wedding ceremony waiting to happen, and the thought makes him very, very uncomfortable. He has never been in on Valentines', but imagines it is diabolical. He hopes, sadistically, that James has taken Lily there.

"Afternoon to you, too. Thought you'd never get here." He grins, and she waves coquettishly at the bartender, who puts down his daughter, smiling, and then looks at the girl with mild contempt. Celeste orders two butterbeers, despite the fact that Sirius has not finished his first, and pushes one over.

"Yes, well, you never specified a time." She sips her own drink, peering at him over the rim. Sirius doesn't like her, he knows already, but she  _is_  pretty – and begrudgingly, he has to give her credit for her Quidditch skills. Even then, though, there's something off about her. She's too flirty, too confident – she walks with a swagger like she's god's gift to men, she winks and sighs with ease. When she licks her lips pointedly he realises with horror that they are  _incredibly_ alike, and that is his problem. "So. I've bought you a drink. What else does the illustrious Black do with a girl on valentines' day?" She is still peering.

"Well, you're the first valentine, I'm afraid, so whatever you like." He is already plotting how to shake her off – one Sirius, he rationalizes, is more than enough for everyone. It is  _definitely_ enough for  _him_.

"We could go to Zonko's?" it is not really a question, so Sirius just nods vaguely. She raises an eyebrow. "You know, they said you were chatty, but I never really believed them until now." Sirius laughs.

"Sorry, must be the butterbeer." This is a pathetic lie and she knows it, and looks a little offended. Sirius tries to pull himself back from the edge, because even though he wants to escape, he doesn't want to set off too many alarm bells as he does it. They talk about Quidditch, and he tries to be interesting, to be interest _ed,_  before they leave for Zonko's and she tries to hold his hand. He lets her, for a little bit, peacekeeping. She is interested in the same things that he is, but not pleasantly. She supports the Holyhead Harpies and disapproves of feminists. She is a little boring, talking about herself rather often. Sirius wonders if people think that about  _him_ , all but tuning her out.

When they reach Zonko's it is packed – he spots Creevey in the corner, discussing something in his hand animatedly with a tiny blonde girl, who is looking at him with distinct hero-worship. Celeste is pulling him over to the section containing disguises, a row of hats taking up much of the space. She pulls a purple hat onto her head and immediately waves of white hair unfurl from underneath it, lustrous and shiny. She insists that Sirius wear it, smirking but not laughing, and Sirius is just embarrassed and uncomfortable. He attempts to laugh along, cursing himself for being led on by a pretty face (it wouldn't be the first time), and trying to figure out an excuse to leave her. He can stand half an hour more, but beyond that would be horrific. Being with her is like staring into a mirror, or at least he feels like it, and he doesn't like what he sees.

After ten more agonising minutes of her talking about her parents (pureblood,  _and_ related to Sirius. His pureblood senses are rarely mistaken) and their fan _tastic_ holidays and all the  _terr_ ible things she gets up with the boys in France, or the boys from Durmstrang, where her brother teaches, he is wanting the ground to eat him. She is trying to be sexy, or make him jealous or something, but he doesn't really twig. As she looks in the mirror with a hat on and a platinum bob, Sirius joyfully spots Remus' lanky frame in the corner. His heart swells with relief and he tries desperately to signal Remus and Peter from where he is without attracting her attention. After several failed attempts, he bites the bullet and lies his head off.

"Celeste, I am so sorry, but I have to go." She looks at him, bewildered.

"Oh? Why?"

"It's my friend's girlfriend you see, she's terribly ill and I promised I'd visit her with him – he's a little worried, you know. I'll be moral support."

She blinks slowly. "Oh, uh. Okay. We'll finish this some other time, then?"

"Definitely." He smiles at her, taking a hat from the stand behind her, and then pushes his way through the crowd, trying to shake off the crawling feeling she has given him in his skin. Excited to speak to someone who does not remind him of himself, he shoves the hat over his head, and straight blonde tresses fall over his own. "Excuse me, madam." He mutters in falsetto behind Peter, who jumps. "Do you know where I could find-" Sirius laughs at Peter and Remus' expressions. "Alright so it wasn't the best joke ever." He takes the hat off. "Up to much?" He goes to stand at Peter's side and they both shrug.

"Not really, we spotted some kids up on the hill looking at the shrieking shack, though. It's the most haunted building in Britain, apparently." Remus quirks a smile on one side of his mouth. "We made sure to act suitably terrified." Peter laughs.

"Speaking of being terrified, have you seen Prongs?"

"Not yet; I expect we'll be receiving his body by owl, in twenty separate pieces."

Peter picks up one of the toys from the shelves they are standing in front of – it is a tiny model of Hogwarts, complete with grounds and a tiny, waving giant squid. He smiles at it, poking the squid, which disappears under the surface of the tiny lake very quickly. "Hopefully he's bought her lunch or something." Peter keeps the tiny Hogwarts in his hand after checking the price and balking only slightly.

"If he's any sense, he's bought her lunch  _and_ dinner." Sirius takes the model from Peter and peers interestedly at it, too. Remus is looking at him.

"What happened to the Beater?"

Sirius, still looking at the model, snorts. "Turns out, yet again, that beauty is only skin deep."

"How wise you are." Remus is smiling, and Sirius smiles back, glad that he isn't feeling  _too_ bad, after all. Peter takes the model back.

"I'm going to get this." And he pushes into the crowd, leaving them alone. Sirius suddenly feels a little uncomfortable.

"So what's the plan after here? You getting anything?"

"Oh, I don't know. We might look for James, but I don't want to ruin his fun if it's actually gone well."

"I don't think you have to worry about that."

Remus hums agreement and keeps his eyes focused on the shelves in front, looking at the various tiny, moving models of wizard landmarks – there are replicas of Durmstrang and Beauxbatons as well, alongside tiny models of Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade itself. Sirius looks around the crowd, making sure that Celeste is nowhere near by, but it is too packed to tell and he assumes that means she won't be able to see him. He jumps a little in surprise when Remus' hand finds his own, briefly, and their fingers tangle together. Remus doesn't look at him, only smiles a little and disengages their hands after a moment, putting a palm to his own forehead. "This is always the worst day." He says wearily, kneading his forehead. "Headaches, the whole shebang. Maybe Prongs is right, and it really  _is_ PMS."

Sirius laughs, tucking his hand into his pocket and turning almost fully away, rocking on his heels. He's a little embarrassed. Remus' tentative affections are endearing though, and he appreciates the trust that they represent. Things are changing. "I wouldn't be surprised. You get food cravings, too."

"That I do. I know which affliction I'd prefer, though."

Sirius tries not to take him too seriously, even though he knows that it's the truth. "Ah, well, we all have our crosses to bear. You and your furry little problem, me and my unspeakable attractiveness, James and being a total twat over Lily."

"What about Peter?"

"Too many to count."

Remus frowns. "That's not very kind, Pads."

"Pft, you know I didn't mean it." The man in question threads his way back to them through the crowd, a bag clutched in his hand at his side.

"You guys want anything?" The two of them shrug in response.

"I've no cash, and I'd imagine Padfoot wants to leave pretty sharpish, judging by the expression on the face of that lovely beater." He nods at Celeste, who has clearly seen them and looks sniffy and jilted. She starts to walk over.

"Shit." Sirius wonders how on earth he gets himself into so much trouble – he is earning a reputation for being a flake, and however true it is, he still doesn't appreciate the moniker. He ushers them both out, the two boys deliberately stalling, pretending to examine various things on the way out as Sirius pushes them hurriedly towards the door, hissing obscenities at them. As they trudge through the snow, Sirius glaring faux-darkly at them, he eyes Remus' hands as they move when he talks and, despite himself, thinks that today didn't turn out so bad in the end. Really.

XxX

They spend most of Sunday irritating Remus and listening wearily to James, who endlessly recounts his date with Lily. Sirius can only assume it was a complete disaster (they  _did_ end up going to Puddifoot's, and Sirius grudgingly respects Evans for hating the place) but, luckily for them all, it has not ended their relationship entirely.

Unluckily for James, the gift Lily got him really  _is_ perfect, it being a bright orange Chudley Cannons t-shirt and new, rather fantastic-looking leather Quidditch gloves. James has been wearing them non-stop ever since, despite the fact that the gloves really aren't meant for everyday use, and result in him not being able to hold anything smaller or differently-shaped to a Snitch or a broom. In James' retelling he sounds a bit like a bumbling fool, so at least they know it's truthful – turns out Lily fumed when she realised where they were going, claimed he didn't know her at all, threw a small, temper-laden fit in front of the shop and then rolled her eyes at him and, inexplicably, took his arm and went in anyway.

Sirius suspected it was due to the fact that Remus had been a huge help to her in deciding what to get for James, despite the fact that he denied it vehemently when asked.

Today Remus is even more weary and worn than the day before, eating almost solely meat and snapping at whoever makes a joke at his expense, however good-naturedly. Sirius has already had to talk him down from ripping the head off of a first-year, who thought it would be funny to charm the bedpans in the hospital to sing in bright, faux-American voices and spit their contents at passers-by. Despite being very impressed by the first-year's prowess, Sirius had to lead him away forcibly, muttering about murder never being the answer. He's not sure why it worked, really, but it did, and now they are mostly confined to lounging around the common room, casting sidelong glances at Remus as they check for murderous intent. It is a relief when they head down to the grounds, Remus having gone before as usual. As Peter goes off to stop the willow, James speaks without looking at Sirius, more sombre than he has been all week.

"Pads, are you fucking around with Moony?"

Sirius looks at him in surprise. "What do you mean?"

"What I said." His tone is cold and suspicious, and Sirius isn't sure if James knows more than he is letting on.

"Of course not. Do you really think I would, at this time of the month?"

"Alright. Good." James gives no more indication that he will talk further and transforms, Sirius following confusedly after.

That night passes as more of a blur than usual – the wolf is restless, hungry. It pushes them aside when they attempt to herd it, and getting it to behave docilely is more of a problem than ever before. They have had nights like this before, where the wolf is angry and brash, snuffling angrily at them when they 'introduce' themselves, making Remus gasp and howl more than usual as he transforms. It does not bode well for the morning.

When they leave him to himself as the sun rises, it is with weary faces and hesitant glances back. James has been stern and protective the entire night, glancing at Sirius when he thinks no one is looking. Sirius is not entirely sure what he's supposed to have done wrong, beyond 'fucking around', and he doesn't even know what that  _means._

They travel back to the castle in silence, go to bed without so much as a glance at one another, and Sirius wakes late on Monday morning, having missed potions. It is a small sacrifice, and he goes to visit Slughorn in the morning to apologise and flatter his middle-aged professor, who accepts his lateness if Sirius consents to attend a 'Slug Club' meeting. Sirius agrees accidentally, distracted, but is horrified by the prospect and resolves never to miss another lesson on pain of death. He casts around vaguely for excuses before going to the hospital wing as quickly as he can. When he arrives, James is already there beside Remus.

"Shit." He breathes, upon seeing Remus' broken and scarred form. James raises his eyes from his hands.

"I know." He glances at Remus, whose face and chest are a bloody mass of bruises and gashes, his hands trembling even in sleep. He barely stirs – the only indication that he is alive comes from his shallow breathing, which rattles around in his chest before it escapes. James looks positively distraught. "This is  _after_ Pomfrey, too. I know she said that bites and cuts from someone like him don't heal like normal people's, but…" he shudders after glancing at Remus again. "She said he broke his ribs and arm. He was practically mince after we left him, I-" He covers his face with his hands. "I hope he's alright." He looks at Remus' face. "Pomfrey says some of it will scar. How the hell is he going to explain  _that_?" Sirius doesn't know. He stands awkwardly at the foot of the bed, eyeing a cut, like a fissure, that spans the entire diagonal length of Remus' face and is bordered by blue-black flesh. His face is swollen and yellow in places, purple in others. He looks sorry, and fragile, and weak. Sirius starts to understand what James meant, the night before. He doesn't know how much James knows.

"I'm not." He starts, unsure how to continue without being too expository. "I'm not fucking him around." He says, and wonders idly if this assertion is true. James nods.

"I know mate, I'm sorry. You two have just been acting different lately, I wondered if you were- planning something, or-" He does not finish, looking down. "It doesn't matter. I was being stupid. It was something Lily said."

"S'okay." They sit, silently watching Remus as he breathes in and out through his crushed nose and bruised throat. Sirius wonders how James would react if he knew what they were doing – what he had agreed to. He thinks of Remus' warm fingers in Zonko's, of how he smiled, and gets a terrible, sinking, sickly feeling. The boy in front of him doesn't even look like Remus, doesn't look like his tall, witty friend at all. It is sobering, and scary. He puts his hands in his pockets and coughs uncomfortably. "I've got to go, I've got transfiguration and Moony'll kill me if I miss getting him notes."

James nods absently. "Okay. Bring me something from lunch?" this means he will stay, probably until late evening, at Remus' bedside. Sirius bypasses it respectfully.

"Yeah." He turns and leaves the wing without looking at Remus again, guilt clawing at his insides. For the first time, he wonders if what he's been doing is right – or if what happened last night was his fault. The wolf acted no differently towards him at all, the only marked change in its behaviour being heightened aggression, and they had come to understand that it usually had nothing to do with Remus. Still… He goes to transfiguration, thinking helplessly of all the work Remus did to learn what they are going over in class today, Sirius working to further embellish his goblet with his chin in his hand. They share Transfiguration with the Ravenclaws, and Sirius gets on relatively well with them, aside from being slightly threatened by their natural aptitude and ability to concentrate. Peter arrives late and sits beside him, looking a little white. Sirius talks to him out of the corner of his mouth, trying to simultaneously take notes. "You alright, Pete?"

The smaller boy looks at him briefly then turns back to looking at Mcgonagall when the professor catches his eye, disapproving. He talks back whilst trying not to move his mouth. "Yeah. Did you see Remus?" Out of all of them, Peter uses their full names most -probably because he dislikes his own nickname. Sirius sighs.

"Yeah." He scribbles down whatever Mcgonagall is saying about what will be expected of them in their OWLs. "Did you?"

"Yeah. Do you think he'll be okay?"

"I don't know."

She looks at them witheringly again, and they quieten. Peter seems significantly nervy, washed out and fumbling his quill when he attempts to take notes, and Sirius feels the same way, even if he doesn't look it.  _Scars_. The one benefit to having Remus treated at the hospital wing, before now, has been Pomfrey's ability to heal him without leaving much trace. Remus has been scarred before, but nowhere anyone would see – and now, Sirius thinks of the huge line that mars his face, sick and gaping. Almost a mouthpiece for telling everyone just what his problem is, for potentially getting him kicked out of school, for rendering all their efforts null.

Sirius hopes the teachers can come up with a good excuse, or at least that they will let him stay. He doesn't know what he'll do if they don't.

XxX

Two days after the full moon, Remus finally wakes. Professor Mcgonagall comes to visit them in the middle of the night to tell them the news, muttering about what a favour she's doing them but looking pale and adjusting her glasses, surprised, when none of them make fun of her. They troop downstairs in a group, following the light of her wand in complete silence. When they reach the hospital wing she leaves them, asking them quietly not to wake anyone and looking troubled. They wander down the long, cold corridor of the wing and finally arrive at Remus' bed which is, as per usual, covered by curtains to prevent people from seeing him. They duck in and find him in a long sleeved shirt, sitting up. He covers his eyes as they enter, the light from their wands blinding him.

"As per usual, no prior warning for the invalid." He grins at them. "Did I miss much?" James greets his enthusiasm by sitting down beside the bed.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, pretty much." Remus frowns. "Why, do I not look it?" he is easy, jovial, glad to be awake and no longer missing out. They look at one another, and they don't mention the thick brand of the scar on his face, a thin, slanted almond of brown from the bridge of his nose to the corner of his mouth. James laughs weakly. "Just asking." Remus frowns, worried.

"Has something happened?"

Sirius stands towards the back, silent, and is surprised when Remus looks to him for confirmation. "It's just- Moony, you've a scar." He knows he is being clumsy and tries to explain, when Remus looks unperturbed. "On – on your face." And Remus realises and goes silent, reaching a hand up to touch his face, where Sirius knows he can feel the puckered skin of what was once a great chasm of flesh. He looks mystified.

"Shit." He says quietly, rarely one to swear. "Shit." And he looks at them. "What the fuck am I going to do?" James puts a hand on his arm, fatherly.

"It should be alright. We'll think of something, yeah? You could say you got it in care of magical creatures, not many people know you don't take it, or – we could say you got it in the forest, people know we're not afraid to go in, we-" he is grasping at straws, but determined. "It doesn't have to mean everyone will know."

Remus just looks lost. "But some people will. You lot worked it out. Other people will."

Peter, who has had his arms folded the entire time, speaks quietly. "Not if we don't let them. Not if we help you."

"Shit." Remus says again, knees drawn up, head in hands. "Well, this'll be fun." He says bitterly, looking down. "I appreciate you lot coming to see me, but…" he looks briefly at them, imploring. Sirius catches, for the first time ever, a trace of fear in his face about his condition. He can't think of anything to say. "Could you go? Please?" they nod and James squeezes the werewolf's arm before he leaves, saying quietly that everything will be okay, that it will work out, but Sirius is not sure any of them believe it.

XxX

The next morning Remus and James join them in Transfiguration for the first time that week, and Sirius, despite himself, is pleased. The scar is still visible though, healed immeasurably from its first appearance but still on, like a burn, or a brand. Remus sits beside him as they wait for Mcgonagall to arrive, the Ravenclaws mostly taking notes.

"It looks better." He says to the werewolf, who still looks as perturbed as the night before.

"Not much, though."

"It'll be alright. Me and James have decided to tell everyone you were gored by a hippogriff in the forest, defending your mates."

"Much more heroic." Remus tries a thin, wavering smile. "I like it."

"Thought you might." Mcgonagall comes in at that moment, looking only superficially at Remus, but Sirius is sure he sees her smile supportively at him, her face lined with worry before she straightens and stands before her desk, outlining their aim that lesson (they are Vanishing things today, which sounds much more fun than it is). When she is finished, she treads slowly over to Remus' desk. The werewolf looks at her worriedly. She crouches, so as to be at eye-level.

"Lupin, are you…well?" Remus looks at her.

"I'm alright. It comes with the territory." He says resolutely, and she looks a little relieved.

"Very good. I'd like to see you after the lesson, to demonstrate what we learned last week?"

Remus nods. She looks at him, apparently satisfied, and returns to the front of the class to praise one of the Ravenclaws for her vanishing abilities – James leans over to talk to Remus. "Did you get the goblet rat thing down?"

"Yeah, Pads helped me out in the end."

James nods, with a grateful look at Sirius, and returns to his work. Apart from the inherent difficulty of Vanishing spells (Remus is the only one who makes any significant progress, and even then, his quill only ends up semi-transparent), the class passes without further incident. Remus stays behind while they leave for lunch, and James watches him as he goes to stand at Mcgonagall's desk.

"I'm going to meet Lily. See you down there?"

Sirius waves sarcastically. "Try not to dribble all over your food this time."

"No promises." James is in an obscenely good mood and Sirius feels comparatively foul, walking to the great hall. Seeing Severus Snape does him no favours. He feels Peter stiffen at his side as the long-nosed boy slides into vision.

"Alright, Black?" Clearly, Sirius is missing something here, as Severus does not often seek them out.

"Alright." He says stonily, standing up straight. Severus sneers.

"Don't see your…  _friend_ anywhere." He says darkly, and Sirius raises an eyebrow.

"He's with his girlfriend. Why, are you missing him?"

Severus stiffens visibly. "I meant Lupin."

"What're you looking for him for?" Peter speaks up defensively, a tremor in his voice.

Severus shrugs. "Just wondered how he was feeling. Hasn't been very well lately, has he?" He is trying to look nonchalant, but Sirius bristles in retaliation.

"Maybe you shouldn't talk about things you know nothing about." He spits, and Severus looks pleased.

"Calm down, Black; it's of no consequence to me whether he's well or not." He smiles, turning to walk in the other direction. "I didn't realise you all had such a …" he feigns thinking of the word. " _Pack_  mentality." Sirius' wand is out of his pocket before he even registers it, and simultaneously, he and Peter shout curses – Sirius with intent to maim, Peter to petrify. Snape pulls out his own wand and deflects them both with a shielding charm that Sirius does not know, so he settles for physical abuse instead. He grabs the other boy by the throat and all but slams him against the wall opposite, first casting around to see if anyone is watching. With the tip of his wand pressed against his throat, he hisses in Severus' face.

"You leave us the fuck alone, alright?" He spits, and as Severus raises his wand, choking, Peter disarms him. "It's nothing to do with you." He drops the boy and Peter tosses the wand back to him with disdain – they back out of the corridor as Severus stands against the wall, eyeing them beadily, his wand at his side. Once he is out of view, Sirius stows his wand away again. "Greasy fucker." He mutters to Peter, who is just as angry. "If he comes sniffing around again, I'll –" He doesn't know what he'll do, but it doesn't really matter – there's not much he  _can_  do, and all the things he's imagining would be followed by a trip to Askaban.

They get to the great hall and James and Lily are already eating – Lily eyes Sirius defensively when they sit down opposite, but otherwise says nothing. James, halfway through mouthfuls, looks up and down the table. "Where's Moony?" Sirius shrugs, wanting to discuss what happened in the corridor, but unwilling in the presence of Lily.

"He'll be along soon enough." He glares at Lily as he ladles himself soup, and she meets his eye with the same emphasis, James remaining blissfully oblivious. Remus arrives shortly before they all finish, and all but collapses at the table. Lily stares at him.

"What on earth happened to you?" The other three marauders wince, watching via peripheral vision to see how Remus will react – and are relieved when he smiles.

"Got into a nasty scuffle with a hippogriff." He smiles at her. "Nothing to worry about."

Lily opens her mouth, presumably to ask him more questions, but James shushes her with a conspiratorial look. For some reason, she glares at Sirius even more vehemently after that.

"Did Mcgonagall want much?" Peter asks Remus through his food; Remus fills his own plate as he speaks.

"Not really. Just wanted to see if I could do what we did last week."

"And can you?" Asks Sirius, interested. Remus nods.

"Thanks to you, yes." He smiles contentedly. "I had the weirdest conversation with Severus Snape on the way down here, you know."

Sirius feels anger rise again. "What did he say?" He grits through his teeth, barely concealing his aggression. Remus gets himself some bread and soup, and eats it without really looking at him.

"Not much, just kept asking me when I got out of the hospital wing." He frowns. "I told him it wasn't any of his business, to be honest. Not sure why he's so interested."

"Me neither." Sirius says darkly, finishing his food. Lily, from across the table, is still looking at Remus with a worried expression.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she says gently, and he nods, looking at her with gratitude.

"Perfectly alright. How was valentines' day? We've only gotten the garbled version from James."

Lily smiles, cuffing James gently on the shoulder. "Almost a complete and utter sapfest, but improved towards the end." She leans her chin on her hand and glances at James with good-natured exasperation. "We'll do better next year."

James looks pleased by this, and wraps his arms around her waist. "Yes, we will." He says enthusiastically, and pulls her into his lap. She protests initially but eventually raises her hands, looking at Remus with an expression that says 'what can I do?'. James digs his face into her neck and she laughs. Sirius suppresses the urge to vomit.

XxX

The evening after Remus wakes, he hangs back in the common room before they go to bed and, first looking around, surprises Sirius by coming up to the chair where Sirius is finishing his (now incredibly late) vampire essay. He crouches and kisses Sirius briefly. The scar has faded from brown to a dark pink now, and Sirius assumes that is how it will stay. He smiles when Remus pulls away.

"What was that for?"

"Just in general. I heard about your little fight with Severus, by the way."

"How?"

"Peter told me. Look, don't get yourself into trouble on my account, alright? Things worked out okay."

"I won't."

"Okay." Remus kisses him again. "Are we, er. Still doing this?"

Sirius laughs and nods in answer. "Until you tell me otherwise."

"Okay." Remus rises and goes towards the stairs. "Don't stay up too late."

"Yes, mother." Sirius feels guilt claw at him again, as his friend leaves the room. They have been different since valentines' day, or perhaps they were different before that – it doesn't feel like a favour anymore. It doesn't even feel like rebellion. He runs a hand through his hair and tries to finish the essay, repeating Severus' words to him over and over and over in his head.

XxX

Over the course of the next week, Severus practically follows Remus from class to class, and Sirius, to completely understate his feelings, doesn't like it – he finds himself constantly trying to throttle the greasy little bastard, hissing oaths in his face until someone comes along and forces him to stop. His animosity grows to a head when they are all by the lake, and Severus stalks past, glaring. He mutters "Fucking filthy half-breed." under his breath, and Sirius is on his feet in seconds, along with James and Peter. Remus stands also, but only to put a hand on James' shoulder and attempt to pull him back. Lily stands also, ready. Sirius is fuming.

"You say that again." He growls, and Severus looks only mildly perturbed.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Sirius pushes at his shoulders, hard, with both hands. "You say that again." He repeats, stalking closer. He hears Remus behind him, asking him not to overreact. He doesn't think that he is. He pushes Severus closer to the lake. "You say that again, and I'll blast you to fucking kingdom come." His wand is clenched tightly in his hand, and Severus is doing the same.

"I'd like to see you try."

Sirius debates hexing the greasy cunt's head off then and there, but resists when James stands between them. "Calm down, Pads. It's not worth it." He points his wand at Severus. "He's right though." And he stares him down until the dark-haired youth looks down his nose at them with derision and walks off quickly. His eyes linger on Lily, but she is asking Remus if he's alright. Sirius keeps his eyes fixed on the dark shape until he is gone.

And that is why, though it in no way excuses his actions, he makes sure Severus is watching on the sixteenth of march, a month after Remus' last transformation. It is why he keeps the other boy in view when they reach the willow, why he hangs back and makes sure that Severus follows. Why he distracts James when Peter stops the tree's branches – why he feels a sick thrill when Remus' tortured screams turn into Severus' horrified, surprised ones. Why he is only horror-struck after he realises what he has done, when it is already too late.

James too, distracted by the worry that that night will bring more scars, only notices when it is too late. He charges in during Remus' transformation, breaking their wordless pact, and rescues Severus, who Sirius thinks hardly deserves it, then drags him out of the tree, shouting hurriedly for Peter to stop the branches again. Then, with the air of a mourner and with the help of Peter, James levitates Severus' lifeless body across the grounds and up to the castle without so much as a backwards look. He returns in twenty minutes or so to check on Remus, with Headmaster Dumbledore beside him. He looks at Sirius, who is no longer a dog, with more disgust than Sirius thought those eyes could contain. As Dumbledore goes in to check on Remus' condition, the wolf having been denied human meat, James turns around and punches Sirius, unrestrained, in the face.

"Are you happy?" he asks coldly as Sirius stares up at him from the ground, his nose bleeding. They look at each other in the hollow space before the shack, James with revulsion, Sirius with fear. They've never hit one another before. James aims a half-hearted, but still vicious, kick at Sirius' stomach. "Are you happy now, hey? Someone knows!" He boots Sirius again, who curls up but takes it willingly. His stomach, it seems, has actually fallen out of his body already. James kicks him again and Sirius is winded. "If he gets kicked out of school, I swear to god, Padfoot-" the nickname gives him hope, but James' expression does not. "I can't fucking believe you." He spits on the ground beside Sirius' face and turns away. "Get up, you fucking idiot." He says over his shoulder, and Sirius does, feeling pathetic. Dumbledore emerges from the shack and looks at Sirius' bloodied nose with only mild interest. He speaks to James.

"He's fine, but it might be best to leave him tonight." He does not talk about the fact that they are animagi, or about the stupid and potentially fatal thing Sirius has done tonight. Sirius almost wishes he would. "You two will have to come up to the castle with me." And he leads them away, James at his side, Sirius following behind, wincing as his stomach churns from the pain of James' vehement kicks. When they get to Dumbledore office they sit beside one another, but James will not even look in his direction. Sirius tries to start apologising but doesn't know where to begin. He settles for looking at his hands, vaguely aware of the blood congealing above his top lip. "What happened tonight was, I believe, an accident." Dumbledore says, sounding tired. "But accident or not, you very nearly cost a student his life." He shakes his head in apparent disbelief. "I think it would be best if you left, now." He takes his half-moon shaped glasses from his face and rubs them with the edge of his robes. "And Mr. Black – you might think to control your temper in the future." Sirius nods, eyes on the ground. In their dormitory Peter is already back in bed, and James changes with angry, fevered movements, chucking his toothbrush across the room in fury when Sirius shuffles in to brush his teeth and dab at the blood on his face. James does not speak, only pulls the covers over his head and goes to sleep, and when Sirius wakes, no one else is there.

XxX

In the cold harsh light of day, Sirius has no idea where to go. He doesn't know if he should go to the hospital wing, or just go to classes like nothing has happened. His nose throbs painfully but does not feel broken, just tender and bruised. Across his ribs are three definite boot prints, in varying shades of blue and purple and black. He decides, after a pensive shower, to go downstairs and face the music. He dreads seeing what state Remus is in, and dreads being asked why he did it because he just doesn't  _know_. He runs into James and Peter, who are exiting the hospital wing as Sirius arrives. James makes as if to just push past and Peter does the same, but Sirius grabs his arm.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay? I don't know why I did it, I-" He stops. "Is he okay?"

"I'm not sure that's anything to do with you anymore."

"Snape, was he-" Sirius can't finish the sentence, too horrified by the prospect of Remus biting someone, and of what that can mean. James shakes his head, eyes still hard with disgust.

"No."

"Prongs.  _Please_."

James shakes his head. "I can't even look at you right now." He says simply, and pushes past with Peter. Sirius fights the impulse to turn tail and run, and goes up to Remus' bed, instead. He steps inside the curtains and is surprised to find him awake, Madame Pomfrey rubbing a thick green salve onto his shoulder. Remus looks at him and doesn't look especially angry; just tired and grey, which is almost worse. There are no new scars on his face, but his shoulder sports a huge tear, muscle and tendon visible, which heals before Sirius' eyes as Pomfrey treats it. When she is finished, the wound still an angry red welt, the healer turns around and looks down at Sirius before leaving. She, too, will not say a word to him. Sirius stands just in front of the curtains and Remus stares him down.

"I didn't expect to see you." There is no emotion in his voice. Sirius' mouth dries up.

"I'm so sorry." He breathes, and takes a step forward but finds himself unable to take another. Remus looks down at the wound on his shoulder and says nothing. Sirius, barely registering the shame of it, starts to cry. "I'm so sorry Moony, I don't know why I did it, I was just so angry and I wanted to punish him, and-" he can't finish. He sniffs pathetically, studying the werewolf's face. Remus picks absently at his bedspread.

"So you thought it best to  _feed_   _him_   _to me_. Well." There is a hard edge in his voice. "Understandable." Sirius sniffs again.

"I'm so sorry."

"You bloody well should be." Remus says quietly, lifting his head. "I just never expected this from  _you_." His tone is wistful, defeated. Sirius wishes Remus would tear his head off and be done with it.

"I'm so-"

"Sorry. Yes. I know." Remus picks at the bedspread again. "Maybe you should go."

Sirius nods and leaves for his Potions class, horrifically late. He tries futilely to compose himself along the way, embarrassed by his red eyes and the nose which is still swollen, and whistles when he breathes. Slughorn, thankfully, forgives him it with an inclination of his head, clearly having been informed of what happened. Sirius sits down and finds himself confronted with Lily, who parks herself beside him. Her face is red. "James told me what you did. How you hurt Remus. You and your  _pranks._ You  _arsehole._ " She too, with her choked voice, just sounds sad. Sirius longs for James to kick him again. "I knew I wasn't wrong about you." She unpacks her things. "I thought he was your  _friend_!"

Sirius has no answer. He unpacks his things, too, and tries to concentrate on Slughorn talking about amortentia as Lily hisses more questions from beside him, none of which he can answer. They work together begrudgingly, Sirius being as meek as possible, doing whatever she says – even this irritates her, and she tells him to stop playing martyr. He accepts her barbs, resists the temptation to defend himself. Mid-way through the lesson, she says "I  _told_  James you were fucking him around." and Sirius looks at her.

"I wasn't. It wasn't about him."

"Seems like it was, to me."

"It wasn't meant to be."

"Well." She says angrily, chopping ingredients with vehemence. "It is now."

XxX

Too afraid and guilty to face his friends in the great hall, Sirius skips his meals. It feels like cowardice, but he's not sure they want to see him anyway – they've told him as much. Instead, he goes to the library, and does most of his homework for the next week. He thinks bitterly that if they keep this up, he will at least become a much better student.

He goes back to the common room that night and is horrified to find them all sitting in front of the fire. Remus, his shoulder bandaged, sees him first, facing the portrait hole from where he is sitting. Sirius looks at his feet and attempts to cross the room without attracting their attention, but Remus calls him back. He turns without much enthusiasm and can't meet the werewolf's eyes.

"Didn't see you much today, Padfoot." Remus says quietly, and Sirius falters in trying to speak.

"I'm sorry." He croaks again, reddening. All four of them are watching the exchange.

Remus clears his throat. "I know that you didn't do it on purpose." he says softly, and Sirius still can't look at his face, mortified that Remus might forgive him so quickly, and hoping selfishly that he will. "You can sit with us if you like." James makes a noise of disapproval but says nothing. Sirius looks up and Remus, Lily and Peter are all watching his face. James is turned away, arms folded. Sirius shakes his head.

"I don't think I should."

"I do." Remus says firmly, and reluctantly Sirius crosses the room, perching himself on a stool at the fireplace near Peter. Remus is steadfast, sitting straight in an armchair and Peter, James and Lily are all side-by-side on the sofa. Sirius studies his hands intently. "I know why you did it, Sirius, but  _you_  need to know that you broke my trust. You could have killed someone last night – or worse." He quietens with the last addition, making it clear what he means. Sirius holds back tears again, angry at himself.

"I know."

"I just need to know that you know this isn't a joke. It never was." Lily looks suitably confused, but the marauders do nothing to clarify it to her. Remus looks at her apologetically. "I'll explain." Lily nods.

"I know it's not a joke." Sirius says, trying not to sound ungrateful.

"I don't think you do." Remus looks around the common room and sighs heavily, his entire body slumping in the chair just a little. He clasps one hand with the other.

"I've only really told James this before, but I was bitten when I was six." Sirius looks up and watches his face. He has always assumed he would never hear this story. Remus continues. "At the time – not that it's much different now – the standard procedure for children bitten by werewolves was at best, euthanasia. Very few children like me survive the bite, and the healers tend to think it is kinder that way. Perhaps they're right." Lily is watching him, mouth open. She looks at James, who nods at Remus. "My dad worked at the ministry, so having me for a son, especially when my attack was so well-publicised, wasn't easy. He gave up everything for me to continue living, as did my mum. The fact that she's a muggle hasn't made things any easier." He draws a deep breath. "It's been more than just transforming every month and trying not to eat everyone." He smiles ironically. "It's been my whole life, every aspect of it, since I can remember. It's not something  _about_  me – it  _is_ me. And having someone know about it, someone I can't trust, could derail the course of not just my life, but countless others." He looks at Sirius, who feels deeply uncomfortable. "Severus is still in the hospital wing. Thankfully, I didn't touch him, and his injuries are from shock, mostly." A pause. "I hope you understand what I'm trying to say." He looks at Lily. "Sorry you had to find out this way, Lils. I was going to tell you eventually." Lily just nods. Sirius can't find words other than 'I'm sorry', and feels that he's starting to sound a bit repetitive. Remus, however, looks satisfied. "I just thought it wasn't really fair for me to expect you to realise the impact of what you did without explaining. And don't think this means I've forgiven you." He looks at Sirius sadly. "I really did trust you, Pads, and I don't think it'll be easy for me to do so again."

"That's okay." Sirius says quickly, grabbing at whatever toehold they have given him to get back. James looks furious still. Lily yawns.

"I'm going to go to bed." She says, and when she stands she crosses the room to hug Remus tightly. She says something in his ear and he laughs and thanks her. Lily goes to bed red-faced, and Sirius is sure she is crying again. Remus looks at James and Peter.

"Can I talk to Padfoot for a minute? Alone?"

James looks hesitantly at Sirius, the anger still blazing on his face, as if he will say no. At Remus' imploring expression he slumps his shoulders. "Okay." He nods, and goes slowly up the stairs, watching Sirius, Peter trailing behind. Remus waits until they're gone to talk– they are on opposite sides of the common room almost, Remus with his legs drawn up in his chair, Sirius on the edge of his own.

"I don't think we should do this anymore." The werewolf says firmly, and Sirius almost asks him what he means until he realises.

"If that's what you want." He nods, feeling his guilt dissipate slightly, to be replaced with a stomach-centric, awful tug. "I'm sorry, Moony. I really am." He says earnestly, looking Remus in the eyes. He nods.

"I know you are." He gets up to go and crosses the room to hug Sirius briefly before he goes to bed, the forgiveness in Remus' actions and tone of voice just making him feel infinitely, infinitely worse.

XxX

James is still angry the week after Remus' transformation, turning away whenever Sirius tries to apologise and refusing to look at him when they are in lessons together. Sirius still feels guilty, but he's not sure why James is more annoyed than Remus was – at least, he  _seems_  more annoyed. Remus has been distant though, spending more time with Lily of late, and Sirius, in the hopes of getting them to forgive him, has been forced to grin and bear it, despite missing his friends terribly. The only person who will acknowledge him fully is Peter, and Sirius suspects that is more out of fear than solidarity – and when James is around, Peter won't speak. Remus has been cordial, but not friendly, per se. Sirius has never felt so lost, or more like a piece of shit for something he's done. He debates owling his parents, even, but only entertains it for a second before deciding it's a bridge too far.

Almost exactly a week after Sirius makes what he's started to call in his mind 'The Big Fucking Mistake (You Twat)', James actually comes looking for  _him._  Sirius lets go of any ideals of peacekeeping when he sees the expression on James' face.

"You." James jerks a thumb at him and then motions to the dormitory. Sirius follows meekly, unable to do much else. He'd been sitting alone in the first place, anyway – even shouting is a vast improvement. When they get upstairs, James points at the desk chair. "Sit down." He says in the same monotone as before. Sirius does. Quickly. "You." Starts James again, pacing in front of him, "Are a fucking idiot."

"I know, I-"

James cuts him off. "I told you. I told you not to fuck him around, and …what, four  _fucking_ weeks later, you do  _exactly_ that!" He waves his arms. Paces more. "I defended you to Lily, as well. She said you were bad news, said you'd mess him up, said I should keep you at arms length, and I said-" he adopts a spiteful falsetto version of his own voice. "'Oh no Lily, I know he's rash but he'd never do anything to us.'" He glares pointedly at Sirius. "'Oh no lily, we're the  _fucking marauders,_ we  _fucking care about one another!_ " he turns, completely out of the blue, and slaps Sirius in the face. Sirius clutches at it, only partially glad it wasn't with the same sort of power as the one that knocked him flat the week before.

"Ow! Fuck!" He holds a hand to his face, but despite himself, starts laughing. "You slapped me, you girl!" He thinks his laughter is only making James angrier, and tries to compose himself. "Look. I'm  _sorry_."

"Yeah, well, you fucking should be."

"What do you  _want_  from me?"

"I just." James sighs and sits down on Sirius' bed; Sirius looks at him resentfully, holding the side of his face. "Look, Lily told me that you and Remus were really close before all this happened, and even though I'm not sure I completely understand…" He looks at Sirius. "I just don't want anything else to happen to him. I think he's suffered enough for ten blokes. You know?"

"Of course."

"Then why the fuck did you do it?"

"I don't know."

"How can you not know?"

"I just do stupid things sometimes." Sirius looks out the window to avoid James' imploring expression. He isn't sure which James of the past week he prefers. "You know that."

"Yeah, but I never thought you were stupid enough to do something like this. You  _used_ him. As a  _weapon._ "

"I know! I just… I wasn't thinking of the wolf as Moony. I can't put the two of them together. I'd  _never_ do it to Remus, but… the wolf… is a wolf."

"No it isn't."

"Well I know that now, but like I said, I wasn't thinking. I think I wanted Severus to understand how strong he is, to feel a bit of… fear. He's been walking all over Moony for years now, just because Moony's too nice to curse the fucker. I wanted him to understand that Moony's  _stronger_ than him." Sirius shrugs. "I know it doesn't really make much sense. I know it was stupid."

James sighs heavily. "Look, I'm having a hard time not punching you again-" Sirius flinches instinctively. "But you're really fucking lucky, because Moony feels sorry for you being alone all the time." Sirius tries not to look too hopeful. "So if you can admit what a fucking stupid, foolish, potentially  _lethal_ thing it was you did…" he sticks out his hand. "Then I think we can work this out. It'd be kind of awkward sharing a dormitory for two more years and not being friends anyway, and I need you at your best on the Quidditch team, not this…" he looks pityingly at Sirius, "Fucking mess that you are now."

Sirius chooses to avoid taking issue with the 'fucking mess' thing, and shakes his hand. He tries a smile, and James returns it grudgingly.

"I am a complete and utter twat."

"Say that fifty more times and we'll be fine." James lets go of his hand and moves towards the door. "You coming down to the common room, then?" Sirius nods. "Oh, and… Moony says he's going to be palling around with Lily for a bit more. Just so you know."

"Okay." Sirius' face falls, but it's not really much more than he expected, anyway. He follows James down to the common room and they play chess in a way that is (relatively) free of animosity, Peter between them, woefully trying to decide whose cheering section he's in. By comparison to the last week, Sirius feels as if he's in a much better place.

XxX

Sirius hardly registered the time of year until March suddenly became April, and the entire castle ended up swathed in endless rain. They sat outside anyway, charming little umbrellas over themselves, and then fleeing inside when the showers were at their most violent. James decided, just after he and Sirius made amends, that they'd been lax in maintaining their reputations. He proposed something  _huge_ on April Fool's day… but neglected to mention what it was, and was quiet about it from then on. Sirius, for once, had bigger fish to fry.

The weeks after Severus 'met' Moony were a test of Sirius' temper, once again – the Slytherin boy had been sworn to secrecy on pain of expulsion, but that didn't stop him making snide, disgusted comments to the werewolf or his friends whenever they crossed paths. Remus said it didn't bother him, but to see his expression after Severus muttered 'Filthy Half-breed' for the fiftieth time in one day would convince anyone otherwise. Sirius missed him desperately, too – they spent even less time together than they had before, and Remus seemed to find it difficult to look him in the eyes at all, let alone have a proper conversation with him. He began to find it hard to connect the images of Remus, the boy he once agreed to kiss, with the boy who was now barely his friend. It had only been two weeks, of course, but he was impatient; he wanted things to be back to normal, and if possible, he wanted it as quickly as he was humanly able.

In what can only be described as a fit of madness and desperation, he goes to find Lily in the library, three days before the first of April. She greets him, as usual, with barely concealed disapproval.

"Morning, Evans." Sirius says, trying for nonchalance and achieving what looks like mild constipation. Lily obviously doesn't have time for it.

"Morning, Black." She looks at him contemptuously. "If you're looking for Remus, he's in lesson."

"No, I'm not looking for him."

"Great. Kindly take yourself somewhere else, then. You're in my light." She returns to the book. Sirius doesn't move.

"I was looking for you."

Evans lifts her head from the desk and eyes him suspiciously. "Why?" She says slowly, drawing it out. Sirius balks a little at the prospect of further conversation, and tries to gauge the likelihood of dismemberment.

"It's about Remus."

"He's not ready to be friends again. You're lucky he didn't tear you limb from limb." She looks down her nose at him. " _I_  would have."

"I know. I just." Sirius is unaccustomed to being so nervous and apologetic with people. He thinks that by the end of this debacle, though, he'll be a dab hand. "I miss him, and I was wondering if you could help me."

"And I would do that…why?"

"I'll help you with James. No one knows him better than me. I could help you."

"I don't need help with James." Lily scoffs, eyes still on her book – she hasn't turned a page this entire time though, and Sirius is sure it's just a prop at this point.

" _Everyone_ needs help with James. He's insane."

"Pot, kettle, Black."

"Well yes, but that's why I get him." Sirius sits in the chair opposite her. She looks up only briefly. "You're not… mad… in the  _least_." He isn't sounding very convincing, and resolves not to lie from now on, because her glare has intensified a thousandfold. Lily looks contemplative.

"I don't need help with James, really. He generally just does what I say, I think he's a bit scared of me – but," She looks faintly embarrassed. "Could you help me with Quidditch? He's so obsessed, and I don't really get it. You play, right?"

"I'm on the Gryffindor team."

"Oh. Are you?" Sirius tries not to be offended.

"Yes."

"Brilliant then, you can teach me about it."

"Okay. Fine. And you'll help me with Remus?"

She smiles helplessly at him. "To be honest, I'm not sure how much I can  _help._ He was so hurt by what you did, I…" She puts the book down, finally. "I suppose I could relay to you what he's told me?"

"Anything is good. I just want him to forgive me, it's so weird without him. Peter and James miss him too, and I'm sick of being the thorn in everyone's side."

"Well I'm not a miracle worker. I can't stop you from being annoying."

"Oh, ha ha ha. Do we have a deal, or not?"

She muses. "Okay. But you'll teach me?"

"I can't teach you to  _play,_  but I can explain it."

"Okay." She holds out her hand, and Sirius shakes it. Lily looks a little confused, after. "I'm not sure where to start. What do you want to know?"

"Just. Anything. Does he talk about me?"

"More often than you deserve."

"Good." He pauses, wary about his phrasing. He's fairly sure, based on the evidence, that Lily knows what went on between them – but if he's wrong, he's potentially outing Remus, and that's not what he wants at all. "What did he tell you – about him and me?"

"Some things that would  _definitely_ damage your reputation." She raises her eyebrows and he is terrified. Lily waves a hand. "Oh, keep your knickers on, I'm not bothered. The sexual revolution has been and gone, after all." Sirius is getting the vague sense that she's about to pull out a lesbian anecdote, and is desperate to stop her.

"Okay." He doesn't know what else to ask her – he had been hoping, vaguely, that because she was a girl she could just  _solve it_  by pulling out knowledge that he couldn't possibly conceive of. He is a little disappointed that girls aren't the emotional gurus they profess to be. "So… what's bothering him? At the moment?"

"Well, obviously, he really likes you, and he was thrilled when you started-" she uses air quotes "'Spending more time together', even if it was just a friend thing… and now he's confused because he still likes you, and he likes being with you, but you've betrayed him, so he feels like he should hate you."

"But he doesn't?"

"I didn't say that." Lily sighs. "I can't really tell you much beyond that, to be honest. Most of that is just what I've read between the lines, I'm not even sure if I'm right." She picks up the book, and stands, putting it on a shelf nearby but with her head still turned towards Sirius as she talks. "So? Will you teach me about Quidditch? Keep in mind, if you say no, I'm rather good at vanishing spells, and I don't know where the objects go when they're gone."

"Point taken. Okay." As Lily sits down, Sirius draws a gold rectangle in the air with his wand. "This is the pitch – stop me if I'm going too fast for you, now." Lily huffs, not amused, but watches him explain anyway.

XxX

When he walks into the dormitory between lessons on April the first, Sirius is struck by déjà vu. He enters the room to the sound of someone vomiting, and wanders over to investigate. Remus is crouched by the toilet, alternating between throwing up and catching his breath. "Oh, Pads. Thank god." He gasps, before leaning over again. "One of the bastards in first year cursed me, I was trying to stop him getting into the kitchens." He retches into the toilet. "I've been doing this ever since, I'm worried I'll start throwing up-" he belches, and goes white. "-Vital organs, in a minute."

Sirius crouches beside him. "Are you okay?"

"Do I fucking  _look_  okay?" The werewolf says quickly, before resuming being sick. All that is coming out is bile, and he is shaking. "Can you solve this, or take me down to the hospital wing, or something? Little bastard was-" he leans over the toilet, but it is a false alarm. "Smarter than he looked." He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes are watering.

"Merlin, how long have you been here?"

"Too long."

Sirius points his wand at Remus and mutters  _finite incantatem,_  and Remus breathes shallowly. "Oh thank fuck, I couldn't stop puking long enough to do it myself, I was worried I'd blast one of my eyes off or something."

"You'd definitely be a sorry state then."

"Mm." Remus slumps to the floor, kneeling with one arm still on the toilet seat. Sirius reaches up, trying to be inconspicuous, and flushes it. Remus smiles gratefully, laughing. "Cheers, Pads. Do you have some kind of sixth sense for when I'm throwing up?"

"Just lucky, s'pose."

"One of us is." Remus wipes his brow with a hand. "That's more exercise than I ever like to get in a day. Wow. Next time I see that kid I'll hex him to kingdom come, prefect badge be damned."

"Probably best not to."

"Ssh, let me fantasise."

Sirius sits cross-legged on the floor beside him. "Are you okay?"

"As much as anyone can be in my position." Remus rubs his face with a hand. "Honestly, sometimes I think the universe owes me  _big_." He sighs, gesturing at the bathroom. "This is like a metaphor for my whole life." He looks at Sirius, face angled down. "Well, maybe I'm being melodramatic." Smiling gently at Sirius, he tilts his head to the side. "I haven't seen you much lately."

"Whose fault is that? I was going to do a Prongs, and charm everything to tell you to talk to me."

Remus looks at him wryly. "I don't think it's  _entirely_ my fault, Pads."

"Thanks for not murdering me when you had the chance."

"You're lucky. I had half a mind to – Lily talked me out of it in the end."

"Wow. Someone  _likes_  me."

"I  _know_." Remus sits looking at him strangely; Sirius remembers with perfect clarity the day by the lake, where Remus looked at him in a not entirely different way. "I missed you, Pads."

"You should obviously spend more time with me, then."

"I know." Sirius gets to his feet and offers the werewolf his hand – Remus takes it and gets to his feet, shaking. There is bile on his shirt front. He looks down at it. "Wow, this is by far the worst hex I've ever experienced."

"Worse than the time Peter accidentally made you grow those tiny tentacles all over your face?"

"Much worse. Those didn't  _smell._ " Remus shifts from foot to foot, and Sirius realises vaguely that their hands are still clasped. He pulls away sheepishly.

"Getting too used to that."

"Mm. Should probably nip it in the bud before it becomes habit."

"Probably."

Sirius looks at Remus, who is shuffling awkwardly, making as if to leave the bathroom. "Can we be friends again, Moony? Please?"

"I heard James punched you in the face."

"That's not all he did. It hurt, too."

"I'm glad to hear it."

"So is everyone else. So am I, to be honest. I deserved it."

"Yes. You did."

"So can we? Be friends again?"

"If we must."

"And you promise you'll stop breaking us three bloke's hearts, hanging round with Evans all the time?"

"I'll try to cut down on my time with Lily. I think Prongs is getting suspicious." He smirked. "Besides, how could I stand to  _break_  your  _hearts_?"

"Exactly." The space in the bathroom is tiny, and with both of them standing, Sirius gets an old feeling back – expectation, nerves. He wonders if Remus is feeling the same, but the werewolf just looks uncomfortable. He tries to speak as earnestly as possible. "I really am sorry, Moony. I can't explain how bad I feel."

"It… it didn't turn out  _so_  badly." Remus says softly, smirking. Sirius laughs.

"You're not a fantastic liar, are you?"

"Not really, no." and Remus leans down and kisses him, and he tastes like bile but Sirius doesn't really want to pull away. "I lied. Before." Remus says quietly when they are apart, looking him in the eye.

"What about?" Sirius is tempted to put a hand, an arm, anything on the werewolf so that he won't escape again. He is desperately, inexplicably relieved.

"About just being your friend."

"I know."

"What about you?"

Sirius shrugs. "I'm straight." And Remus laughs.

"Well. Okay then." He turns to leave and Sirius pulls him back, pulls him down for a kiss, presses the werewolf against the wall. His blood is hammering in his ears when Remus puts shaky hands on his back, their breathing echoing in the quiet dormitory. He mumbles against Remus' mouth, feeling stupider than ever before.

"I'm so sorry."

"I know."

"You taste like sick." Remus laughs. Sirius thumbs the scar on his face, kisses him again, then, without breaking eye contact, lowers himself to the floor in front of the other boy. Remus looks at him.

"What-" and when Sirius undoes his trousers, he squirms. "Are you fucking serious?"

"No, but if you play your cards right,  _you_  could be."

"Sirius, I don't-" but he shudders because Sirius has hesitantly kissed his hip, and then he is inside Sirius' mouth. He gasps – Sirius wings it completely, is pleased when Remus' hand tangles in his hair and he mutters  _ohjesusfuck_ , arching his back, his legs trembling. He pulls Sirius' face away at the last second, tugs him to his feet, kisses him open-mouthed, messily, his eyes closed - when the room explodes, every object in the room bursting open, showering them with water. Sirius would have loved not to notice but he jumps a foot in the air and so does Remus, both of them soaked to the skin in a matter of seconds. The dormitory is raining too, water cascading out of drawers and filling the canopies above their beds so that they hang, heavy, fit to burst over the duvets. Sirius laughs hysterically.

" _Prongs_." He says tiredly, and Remus tries to compose himself in the ensuing moments, tucking himself back in his trousers with a raised eyebrow at Sirius. Sirius laughs, standing in the middle of the bathroom, hair plastered to his skull. "At least we don't have to clean up."

"You are  _obscene_." But the werewolf laughs, pulling his shirt away from his skin where it is stuck, letting the wall support him as they kiss again, laughing.

Outside, James Potter walks down the main staircase with his arms spread wide, head tilted toward the ceiling, grinning as the entire castle pours with water. The portraits complain loudly, the stairs awash with first-years pulled over by the current; he is fairly sure that Lily is at the top of the stairs threatening him with bodily harm, but for the moment, his reputation remains untarnished, and everything - just for a moment - is  _perfect._

XXx

As the April showers slowly cleared and May, blissfully, poked a weary head through the clouds, all five of them sat by the lake, doing homework, or pushing each other towards the squid, or just lying on the grass in the vague spring air, trying to convince themselves that it was warmer than it was.

Sometimes they stayed there for a whole day on a Saturday, Lily and Remus complaining woefully about all the work they had to do for their OWLs, the other boys laughing like it was a joke. Sometimes only two of them sat out there, talking, as balmy afternoons segued into bitterly cold nights and they fled for the castle, hands clasped.

Sirius would remember it long after the memory was taken from him – it came back in awful, horrifying clarity when he and Remus met again after their long time apart; when they held one another in disbelief for the first time in fourteen years, and he realised that there, for a moment, everything in the whole world had paled in comparison to those four boys who thought they would be together forever. That the best time of his life had been and gone, and the only thing left now was to hold onto whatever remained.

Remus would remember it when he was fully alone, staring into the fire or into a cup of tea and seeing everything they had ever done, all the words they eventually whispered when they were alone. His childish, desperate love for his friend; the love he eventually carved into Sirius, making him his own. He would remember parchment and sweat and laughter, would think of the smell when he came in from the rain, of dog and bark and grass, and think that at least for one moment, the universe had reimbursed him.

For one moment only, everything, everything, everything had been faultless, and perfect, and  _theirs_.


End file.
